The Webs We Weave
by FatesMistake
Summary: In Harry's Seventh Year, with the threat of Voldemort still dangling overhead, he and Snape enter into a twisted, intimate lie together to save both of them from hardship and death. As they do, things evolve, snowballing out of Harry's control until he's left breathless and wondering when things had changed. It was supposed to be a lie, just one lie. But, oh, the Webs We HP
1. Chapter 1

The corridor was thankfully empty when the Seventh-Year Boy Who Lived peered around the corner. In years past, it would have been Malfoy, or Snape, or Filch, for whom he watched, if only to avoid them. This year it was Ginny Weasley. They'd had what Hermione called a whirlwind affair for all of a month at the end of last term, and the girl was relentless to pick up where they'd supposedly left off, since Harry hadn't returned to the Burrow this past summer. Harry hated hiding from her, but he also hated the idea of patiently explaining that she was way too much for him. For one thing, if he did the second, Ron would come down on his head like a sack of bricks.

The simple fact was, he didn't want to spend the rest of his life being her hero. He… well, put lightly, he wanted to be allowed to fail. He had dozens of fans just as madly in love with his feats of greatness, he didn't want his girlfriend to be one of them; he wanted to be able to look foolish, instead of infallible. He wanted someone who saw his flaws, and, rather than gloss over them as the papers and love letters so often did, he wanted someone who embraced them as a part of who he was. Ginny claimed to like his flaws, but he doubted her sincerity, since she kept trying to fix him. He'd grown out his hair the slightest bit over the summer, trying to get rid of the rag-doll look that made him his father's twin, and she'd complained the moment she'd seen it. She'd actually tried pouting to get him to change it back. Hermione, though, had been quick to tell him he looked as distinguished as he'd secretly felt. Not for the first time, Harry wondered why he couldn't find someone more like Hermione. Not Hermione, Merlin forbid, no, but someone like her. A girl with Hermione's intelligence and perceptiveness, but with more passion. He loved the girl, she was his best friend, but he loved her enough to acknowledge her flaws. She was an amazing witch, but her abilities had one distinct cap: she couldn't imagine greater. For that matter, neither could anyone else Harry knew. Everyone around him seemed too sure of themselves, and only took everything at face value. Harry wanted someone who could… well, someone who could see past the end of their nose, someone with utter confidence. Nearly a month into term, Harry was starting to think he might have to look outside of Hogwarts if he wanted to find a girl like that.

It seemed stupid and selfish, to think of love when there was a war on, but he couldn't help it. Voldemort and his goons had gone to ground, after the debacle last year. Harry thanked whatever gods there were that the idiot had thought hiding his Horcruxes behind a blood magic barrier and a pool of inferi was a good idea. Dumbledore had admitted that Harry himself carried one, and they were still working on a solution for that, but the rest were thankfully destroyed. Even Nagini, who'd been left as a living guard for the Horcruxes, had perished in the Fiend Fyre that Dumbledore had unleashed. Harry wouldn't admit it aloud, could barely muster the will to admit it to himself, but he was so hung up on finding the right girl because he was terrified. So far, the only solution to his Horcrux was his death, and there was no guarantee that he could come back from that. It had been hell, reviving Dumbledore, even with Snape's potions to jumpstart his heart, and Harry worried that the dark magic of the Horcrux would prove… permanently fatal. Concentrating on finding love and going to classes, forcing himself to think and act like a normal teenager, was the only thing that was keeping him sane.

There was a sound behind him in the corridor, and Harry swung around, certain it was the scrape of school flats on the stone floors. It was only a piece of parchment, skidding along the corridor, caught in one of the castle's ceaseless drafts. Harry breathed in relief, chuckling lightly at himself. He was jumpy. He had good reason. Never mind the war, Ginny Weasley was fucking nutters. She'd started stalking him, snapping pictures and reciting bad poetry, about a week ago. That was why he was here. McGonagall had told him that he should take his concerns to Dumbledore, when he'd first noticed this unhealthy behavior. When he'd slipped off to the boy's lav between classes earlier and found her hiding in one of the stalls with a camera (curse Colin Creevey for gifting her one), he'd realized nothing he or McGonagall said was going to deter her. Their Head of House had even spoken to Ginny a few days ago and had sent for intervention from the Weasley matriarch and patriarch. Molly had, apparently, failed to see the gravity of the situation, and hadn't even bothered to send her daughter a letter. McGonagall had offered to bring his concerns to Dumbledore herself, when he'd gone to her again once classes ended, but Harry had wanted to be the one to take it that far, if it had to be done. As he neared the man's tower office, he was starting to wish he'd let McGonagall handle this. It felt wrong, to be going to the Headmaster for something like this, felt weird to involve him when there weren't lives at stake.

The revolving staircase grated, stone on stone, as someone descended, just as Harry was approaching the guardian gargoyle. The stone monster leapt aside as Snape stepped off the staircase and into the corridor. Harry's spine straightened, the muscles in his back coiling. He hated being short all the time, but he hated it most when he was standing in front of this man, looking up the solid six inches to the black gaze. Snape stood tall and proud, sneering down at him.

"Potter, what are you doing here?"

Harry sighed heavily through his nose. He really didn't want Snape, of all people, to know he was afraid of a girl. "I've been sent for the Headmaster," He said tersely, praying Snape wouldn't pry.

The Potions Master grunted, and Harry's sharp green eyes saw what wasn't there. Thin shoulders vaguely hunched, a ring of pain around the man's eyes, his gaunt cheeks a pasty white, rather than parchment yellow. All was not well with the Bat of Hogwarts' dungeons.

"The Headmaster has been called away from the school, it would seem," Snape growled stiffly. He shifted around the Gryffindor, and Harry noticed that he defensively drew his left arm over his stomach.

"Sir," Harry spoke without thinking. "Are you alright?"

Snape snarled over his shoulder. "Return to your dorm, Mister Potter. It is nearly curfew."

Harry frowned, staring after the Potions Master as the man walked away. Clarity hit him like a slap to the face. His left arm. He hadn't been subconsciously protecting his stomach, as Harry had first thought, he'd been subconsciously _hiding_ his Dark Mark. It hurt when Voldemort summoned his followers, and Snape was still a spy, a damned good one. Harry felt like a heel and began to follow the Potions Master at a distance. It was stupid. It really was near curfew, and it wasn't like he could follow him all the way to Voldemort, but something dark and forbidding, deep inside him, urged him on. Something told him that the day's dealings weren't done, and Harry knew enough by now to trust his gut. Trelawney could keep her cryptic visions and indecipherable tea leaves, Harry _knew_, whether Hermione and McGonagall liked it or not, that Seeing wasn't relegated to perfumes and rituals. Sometimes, it was just a gut feeling, and he was having one now. Like the first swallow of ice-cold water on a hot summer day, when your stomach clenches in agony and your nerves sing in pain and ecstasy all at once.

As they reached the Forbidden Forest, Harry wondered at his sheer dumb luck, and actually had to think back to reassure himself that he had not, in fact, taken Felix Felicis. Neither of them had been stopped, nor even noticed, by the very, very few students they'd come across. Harry had waited for some friend, acquaintance, or fan to call out to him and blow his cover, but it was as if he were invisible. No one had so much as acknowledged him. He'd been sure it was coming, as they moved across the great lawn towards the forest. There'd been nowhere to hide, and he'd held his breath, waiting for one person to call out, drawing Snape's attention to what was going on behind him. It hadn't happened, and Harry slipped from tree to tree now, following the man along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, no further in than he and Hermione had been with Buckbeak.

The sinking sun bathed the forest in its warmth, and Harry silently followed the forbidding silhouette. Eventually, the man came to a clearing and paused. Harry peered from behind a tree, not daring to get any closer. He could make out, just barely, as the man raised his left arm and slid his sleeve up. Against the backdrop of sunlight through the trees, Harry could see the slight crease of pain in the stony brow. Then, Snape touched his wand to his left wrist and he was gone. Harry turned back to the school. He could just glimpse it, much farther than he'd thought. They had to be beyond the gates, at this point. He took a step forward, intending to head back and wait somewhere at the school, but a feeling like ice down his spine made him pause. He looked back at the clearing. It… it wouldn't hurt to wait here, just in case. He made an about-face and entered the clearing. Off to one side was a small stump. Harry smirked, shrugging his cloak more securely around his shoulders. He cast a warming charm and sat upon the stump. This would do quite nicely, and he even still had his school things to occupy him as he waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry shivered and cast another warming charm, telling himself he'd build a fire if Snape didn't return in the next ten minutes. This, however, had been his mantra for well over two hours, and he was still loathe to do it. If Snape returned pissed, he wanted to be able to vanish into the night with the man none-the-wiser. Sighing, his breath ghosting in the bright moonlight, he burrowed further into his fall cloak and began to read the next chapter in his Transfiguration textbook. Hermione had shown him a spell that let you read in low or nonexistent light. Strangely, it worked only on the written word. You couldn't use it to see in the dark. That was, apparently, a completely different spell developed by someone else. Harry was still waiting for someone to return the book that would let him learn that spell. Pince had assured him he was next in line, but since they were well past the due date, it could take weeks, or even months, if it was returned at all before Pince retrieved it in the Spring. Hermione had talked him out of ordering the book just to learn that one spell, but he was starting to think that he might find more than just that spell in the book. Being so relatively new and fascinated by magic, he still loved learning new spells, and household spells would someday be useful.

Harry leapt, falling back off his stump, as a massive crack echoed in his small clearing, scaring birds and a thestral foal out of the trees. Harry, stunned when his head struck a root, caught hold of himself just as the forest began to settle again. He sat up with a groan and struggled to remember why he was here, and what that sound had been. His dull eyes sharpened the slightest bit as he remembered Snape, and what that sound had meant. But that sound had been much louder than anticipated. When Snape had left it had been a gentle crack, and this was like thunder striking the ground. Harry looked around the moonlit clearing and froze when he saw the lifeless lump in the very center. He scrambled to his feet, ignorant of his pounding and swelling head, and collapsed back to his hands and knees beside the body of his Potions professor. He rolled Snape over, his breath whistling through the pinhole that was his throat. He checked for a pulse and found one, then checked for breathing and found that, too. He sat back on his heels in gratitude, staring up at the distant moon, the lump in his throat loosening it's hold. Snape groaned lightly, then began to sit up, a hand to his broken, bleeding nose.

Harry, who had seen the state of Snape's face, and was fairly certain he would find worse beneath the stifling robes, reached out and put his hands on Snape's shoulders before he could try to stand.

"Don't, Professor, you're hurt," He said.

Snape turned and glowered at him. "And what do you intend to do about that, Potter?"

Harry frowned, then realized there was nothing he _could _do, with no medical training whatsoever. Making a quick decision, he scooped Snape under the arm and began to drag him to his feet. Snape struggled against him fleetingly, giving Harry an idea of just how badly he was injured.

"We need to get you to Pomfrey," He said firmly.

Snape jerked his arm free, nearly falling again once he was entirely unsupported, before Harry wrapped an arm around the man's waist and drew the arm he'd been holding over his shoulder. He turned and started back toward the school, and Snape came along unwillingly, unable to pull free again.

"Do not take me to the Hospital Wing," Snape snarled breathlessly. "Unless you wish to put my life at risk."

Harry's footsteps faltered. "Oh, she… she's not in the Order." He realized, continuing on his course towards the castle. It had never occurred to him that not all of the teachers and staff at Hogwarts were involved in the war. He felt stupid for never realizing that before. "I'll take you to your rooms, then. But you need medical attention, so what do I do about that?"

Snape didn't respond. Harry glanced up to the Headmaster's tower and saw there were still no lights in the windows. Dumbledore wasn't back yet, so no help there. He figured if nothing else he could go to McGonagall, who he knew to be in the Order. She might be back by now. She'd been leaving when he'd gone to her before heading to Dumbledore's, but she could, hopefully, have returned in the last few hours.

He hefted Snape as quickly as he could back to Hogwarts, Snape's feet moving methodically even as he leaned heavily on Harry's shoulder. Harry began to feel an intense pressure at the base of his spine at the man's silence. It was not a normal silence. Risking looking away from his path, he looked at Snape, who was bent nearly to eye level. Despite the movement of his feet, Harry could see that the man was barely conscious. Walking was likely all he could focus on, like a man who knows death is near. Harry sped up until he was dragging the man before stopping and drawing Snape up into his arms, like a bride. Short and wiry he may be, but weak he was not. He kept up a vigorous routine of exercise, had since he was very small, always in an effort to stay one step ahead of his enemies. It was habit, after it had proved useful against Dudley and Vernon, and it still regularly came in handy. Carrying Snape proved easier than he'd first assumed. The cloak, bunched up between their bodies, proved to be barely a hindrance. Without any forethought, or knowledge that he could do so, his magic pressed open the locked doors into the school, and then locked them back as he moved across the Entrance Hall to the dungeons. The stairs proved tricky, but soon he was rushing down the corridor to the Potions Master's office. Again, the door opened without his consent, closing firmly behind him, the wards untouched. He looked around the office and wondered how he was going to get Snape into his rooms when he wasn't even sure the entrance was through here. It wasn't like there was a _door_. He shifted Snape gently as he took a second look around the room, trying to figure out if there might be some sort of sign on the walls. Snape's eyes fluttered. Then normally bright obsidian eyes, now turned dull and lifeless as volcanic ash, took in his surroundings. His arm, which had been resting on his stomach, rose and gestured to a bookshelf.

"Poisons Puissants." He croaked the French words, before his head fell against Harry's shoulder and his arm dropped.

Harry moved over to the shelf and scanned the titles. Gently, he eased Snape's legs down, supporting him with his own body, as his left hand reached out and touched the spine of the book Snape had named. Magic sparked off his finger and the bookcase slid aside. Harry frowned. That was oddly low security for the Potions Master's private quarters, if just anyone could open the door with their magic. Supposing it had to do with his magic's ease with the previous doors, he picked the man up again and carted him into the small living area beyond. He spotted a door, one of two, to his right and went that way, still operating on instinct and adrenaline. His instincts proved miraculously right as he walked into Snape's bedroom and placed the man on his bed. Snape didn't so much as stir, suggesting he'd used the very last of his energy in directing Harry to his quarters.

Harry went back out into the living room, praying that the man kept floo powder on hand. He didn't like the idea of leaving to collect McGonagall in person. Anything could happen in his absence. He began to search frantically around the fireplace, looking for some container which might hold the magic grains. His adrenaline started to ebb as he failed to find what he needed, and clear thought returned. McGonagall hadn't said where she was going, but he couldn't even be sure she was back yet, either, so leaving Snape to go and collect her could prove a complete waste of precious time. He stepped back, trying to think what else he could do. He didn't know for sure if _any_ of the other professors were Order members. He couldn't remember seeing any of them at the Order meetings he was finally allowed to be privy to.

Groaning, the Gryffindor ran his hands through his short, wavy hair that had replaced the perpetual rat's nest he'd had before he'd grown it out. He turned away from the cold fireplace and his eyes lit on the bookshelves that dominated the other walls. He began to move along the shelves, instinctively looking for what he couldn't even be sure was there. He found it directly across the room from the fireplace, a shelf of books dedicated to healing magic, including the book he wanted from the library. He withdrew this book first, _Home Care,_ then a second entitled _Urgent Care_. He carried both into Snape's bedroom, thumbing through the first. It literally meant care. It was mostly cleaning and organizing spells, but there was also a lot of first aid and patient care. There were spells and potions that acted as temporary relief for whatever ailed someone, but also spells for cleaning, dressing and feeding. Harry stopped on the spell for undressing and winced as he imagined the hell he was going to catch from Snape for doing this. He raised his wand and read off the spell, focusing his intent. He looked up to find Snape sans clothes, save his undergarments, his robes and trousers folded at the foot of the bed, his socks lain atop them and his boots resting on the floor. Harry stepped forward, and then opened the second book. He found the spell he thought might be there and raised his wand again, running it over Snape's body as he focused his intent. It was amazing how easy these spells seemed to be. Outside of Defense, he rarely mastered a new spell in less than a few days, usually longer. These, however, seemed merely to pass through him, as if they were second nature to his magic.

The scan produced a roll of parchment, terrifyingly long, that contained all that was wrong with his Potions professor, who frankly looked like hell without his robes. His slim, lightly muscled body was riddled with bruises, and his skin quivered, his nerves shot from exposure to the Cruciatus. Several ribs were cracked; he had a broken wrist, and a broken nose and black eye to round it off, as well as a pretty serious concussion. Harry opened both books on the bed to their table of contents. A scan of each showed that they had what he would need. The bruising needed a potion, as did the cracked ribs, brain swelling, and shot nerves. It would take spells to clean up the blood and heal the full breaks of his nose and wrist. Making a mental list of the four potions he needed, he stepped back into the living area and hoped he wasn't wrong as he opened the only other door besides the lavatory in Snape's room. Beyond he found a private laboratory. Against one wall were two more doors, both open. In one he found the ingredients Hermione had somehow accessed in their Second Year, and in the other he found a store of potions. He scanned each shelf, pulling the carefully labeled phials from the two topmost shelves before descending the ladder again and hurrying back into Snape's bedroom. He lifted the man's shoulders and braced his head as he poured the four phials, one after another, past pale lips. Snape, still semiconscious, swallowed willingly enough. Harry watched as the swelling and dark stains on parchment skin began to recede, a feeling of relief like he'd never known swelling in his chest. Next, he returned to the end of the bed where the books still lay and began casting the necessary spells, flipping back and forth through the books until Snape finally looked like himself. Better, even, when Harry overcorrected his nose to repair the old damage that had made it crooked before. Sighing deeply, Harry collapsed back against the wall, his work done, and slid down, his knees drawn up against his chest. Part of him wanted to stay, just to be sure he hadn't missed some life-threatening damage he couldn't see, but he knew he hadn't. And if Snape, sleeping peacefully now, awoke to find him here, he might think Harry was looking for repayment of some kind. With one last furtive scan showing nothing further threatened the Potions Master, Harry left the apartments and dungeons that housed the man he had every reason to hate but had never quite entirely managed.

On the Fifth Floor, he came upon an even more dreaded confrontation than Snape waking to find him in his rooms. Ginny Weasley popped out of an alcove, dressed scantily in a lightly buttoned school shirt and a skirt too short for the dress code.

"I was waiting for you," She said in what Harry supposed was meant to be a sultry voice.

Harry swallowed. "How did you-?"

"We all noticed you were gone, silly," Ginny murmured. "I knew you'd come through here, so I waited for you. How could you keep me waiting for so long, Harry?"

"I didn't ask you to do that," Harry said quietly, very aware of the sleeping portraits up and down the corridor.

Ginny sidled towards him. "I don't mind waiting for you, Harry. I know you've been playing hard to get, but I really think we're past that. You _know_ we're meant to be together."

"No, we're not," Harry said firmly, putting a hard hand against the girl's shoulder to keep her at arm's length. "Gin, I'm sorry, but I do not love you. I never will. You are _way_ more intense than I know how to deal with. You were talking baby names after only two weeks together."

Ginny gasped delightedly. "So, you did notice!" She sighed. "Yes, Harry, let's make a baby." She dodged around his hand and began trying to climb him. Harry struggled with her. Finally, he grasped her arms, hard, and pushed her away.

"Ginny, stop it!" He said loudly. "I don't love you!" He winced as several portraits began to awaken and lowered his voice. "You're crazy, Gin, you need help."

An amazing transformation happened then on the younger Gryffindor's pretty, developing features. A vicious snarl overtook the look of adoration and Ginny began fighting against him, tearing at Harry and her own clothes and screaming unintelligibly. Harry struggled to contain and calm her. One of her clawed hands scraped against the knot at the back of his head, causing him to cry out. Within minutes, there came the sound of pounding footsteps and a light bobbing down the corridor. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Pomfrey came to a stop just as Ginny calmed.

"Potter, what did you do?!" The woman asked, looking at the girl who'd collapsed to the floor in a weeping heap.

Harry gaped. "I didn't do anything!" He fired off. "She just went crazy when I told her I didn't love her!"

"A likely story!" Pomfrey harrumphed, picking up the weeping child. "We'll see what your Head of House has to say. Come on."

Harry followed, in shock, as Pomfrey led Ginny, still wailing, back down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing. She settled Ginny on a bed, then bustled to her office. Two flashes of green light later and she bustled back out with McGonagall on her heels. Harry, still completely stunned by Pomfrey's assumption that he had attacked his ex-girlfriend, stood near the girl.

"Potter, apparently, has attacked Miss Weasley," Pomfrey bit out sharply.

"I didn't!" Harry said, his voice cracking. He looked with wild eyes to his Head of House. "She attacked me! I was just trying to keep her from hurting me or herself!"

McGonagall looked over both of her students with a critical eye, apparently unaffected by the late hour. Harry saw that she was still wearing the traveling cloak she'd been in before she left, as if she had only barely returned to the school. She turned to Madame Pomfrey. "I believe Mister Potter," She said firmly. "Miss Weasley has been harassing him almost constantly for over a month, and look at how she is dressed."

"All the more reason for him to attack her!" Pomfrey cried. "Just look at her! Her clothes are torn, and she's a mess. If the Headmaster were here-!"

"He would agree with me," McGonagall sniffed. "Mister Potter is incapable of inflicting the kind of harm you accuse him of."

"Then what was he even doing out past curfew?" The matron demanded.

Harry swallowed. "I- I was… I was in the dungeons."

"A likely story," Pomfrey sneered a second time. "What would you be doing down there? You've no friends in the dungeons." She looked to McGonagall. "He's clearly lying."

His Head of House eyed him carefully, and Harry mouthed "Order" while the matron's eyes were turned away. McGonagall gave a stiff nod, turning to Pomfrey. "I don't think it matters why he was out. If we ask him, we might ask Miss Weasley, as he hardly needed to draw her all the way down here if he wished to attack her."

Pomfrey glowered at him, clearly wishing to argue further, and Harry was taken aback by her easy insistence on his guilt. For one thing, he couldn't believe her thinking him _capable_ of attacking his fellow student, a girl, no less, and for another he couldn't believe she'd assumed right away that he must've and refused to be swayed.

"Ask her!" Harry demanded.

Pomfrey made no move, but McGonagall did exactly that.

Ginny whimpered in response. "He hurt me," She moaned. "I just wanted to talk to him, and he hurt me! Look!" She gestured to the fresh bruises on her upper arms, and Harry gaped.

McGonagall frowned, clearly not believing the girl. "Well, I shall investigate this further," She said, if only to appease the irate Hospital matron. "For now, Poppy, you should tend to Miss Weasley. I will escort Mister Potter back to his dorm."

Harry, still a little broken by the loathing glare and accusatory gaze of his ex-girlfriend and one of his favorite teachers, followed jerkily as McGonagall dragged him out of the wing.

"I- I didn't do anything, Professor," Harry stammered disbelievingly.

"I know, Potter," His Head of House answered stiffly. "However, I do require an explanation about what you were doing out of your dorm."

Harry hesitated. "I was with Snape," He admitted, biting his lip. "I followed him after I ran into him outside Professor Dumbledore's office. He'd been summoned. When he returned, I was still waiting, and lucky thing, otherwise he'd still be unconscious in the fringes of the Forbidden Forest. I brought him back to his rooms and healed him."

McGonagall's quick steps stopped, and Harry froze beside her.

"How could you have healed him?" She demanded.

"He had books. The spells were easy, and he labels his potions well," Harry explained.

McGonagall hummed curiously but started moving again. They walked all the way back to Gryffindor in silence. When they paused outside the Fat Lady, McGonagall spoke again.

"I will do my best to dispel this rumor before it begins," She said stiffly. "However, if Miss Weasley cannot be swayed to tell the truth, I don't know what I can do."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I'll… I'll think of something," He said, licking his dry lips. He had no idea how he could fix this if Ginny told everyone he attacked her. He couldn't tell everyone he was with Snape. For one thing, no one would believe him, and for another, he couldn't stand the thought of airing the man's dirty laundry even to Ron and Hermione. It would be a complete breach of trust.

His mind racing, and yet completely blank, he entered Gryffindor and went to his bed. He froze at one of the windows in his dorm and opened it, summoning his school bag and Transfiguration text from the Forbidden Forest where he'd left them. An impossible distance away, the silhouettes leapt from the deep shadows of the trees and came hurtling towards him, slowing just before they slammed into his chest, allowing him to snatch both from the air. He dropped his bag beside his bed and his book on his night table before collapsing atop the blankets. He rolled onto his back and stared, unseeing, at the canopy above his bed. What the hell was he going to do? Even if it came down to no other choice, he couldn't see himself describing Snape's vulnerability to the man's students, and if he _did _do it, it could lead to a repeat of Malfoy's orders to kill Dumbledore, only it could be any Slytherin, and Snape would be the target. So, if he couldn't tell the truth, how was he going to lie convincingly, even if he could come up with a lie?


	3. Chapter 3

By lunch the next day, half the school, including some of his closest friends, believed Harry had not only attacked his ex-girlfriend, but had unsuccessfully attempted to sexually assault her. He hadn't slept at all the night before, and the addition of the new accusation had sent his mind into a panic. No one could believe that Ginny had done most of the damage to herself. On top of that, he'd been avoiding Snape's eye the entire day, but had felt the man watching him intently all morning. Everything snapped when Harry walked into the Great Hall for the midday meal. He was immediately surrounded by Ron and several boys from Gryffindor and the other Houses.

"You think it's okay to rough up girls?" Zacharias Smith sneered.

"I didn't do that!" Harry cried for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "Ron, you know me, I would never hurt anyone, let alone your sister!"

"Then where were you, Harry?" The boy asked darkly. "Because you and Ginny were both missing after dinner. If you weren't with her, then where did you go, huh?" The redhead stepped forward and shoved his shoulder.

"He was with me," Came the dark tones of the forbidding Potions Master. Harry flinched sharply and looked over his shoulder to see the man had come in just behind him.

Ron scoffed in disbelief. "Like hell. Go on, pull the other one."

Harry caught Snape's eye, his own gaze flickering in desperation as he recalled his restless thoughts the entire night before, about what would happen if Voldemort's supporters in Slytherin learned of Snape's longtime betrayal. They would eventually, and Harry felt a strong _need_ to protect the man. He just had no idea how. If he could just move their focus to him, he knew he could handle the backlash, especially if it kept the Potions Master safe.

"We were together," Harry agreed immediately. Harry thought again of this sexual aspect Ginny had added to her accusation and closed his eyes. His panicked mind could only come up with one excuse, one possible lie that would protect them both. If they pulled it off, everyone would be focused on hurting him, killing two birds with one stone. Rather than trying to kill Snape, they'd be intent on hurting him, to make the man suffer something worse than death. He opened his eyes again and met the Potions Master's unreadable gaze. This was really stupid. Snape's eyes widened minimally as he read the line of Harry's desperate thoughts. "We're-"

"Potter!" Snape said sharply. Harry looked at him pleadingly, and Snape sighed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why not?" The man breathed harshly. He looked up and gave the barest nod.

Harry realized the man was giving him permission and he gave a grateful smile. "He's my boyfriend," He said clearly, his voice firm. The crowd around him gasped, gaped, and drew back almost as one.

"Your _what_?!" Ron demanded loudly, drawing the attention of the rest of the Great Hall.

"You doubt him?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes. "You find that _less_ believable than him trying to rape a girl he's been avoiding for weeks? He was with me and came across Miss Weasley on his way back to his dorm. There are portraits who will attest to the fact that he was leaving the dungeons just before he ran afoul of your sister."

"He's right," Hermione said, joining the small crowd. "I just spoke with several of the portraits. Harry was in the dungeons all night." Harry watched her scratch her arm, and he knew she was lying. He wondered if she'd even talked to any portraits, or only lied about what they'd said. The itchy elbow was her tell, but as far as he knew, no one else was aware of it.

"There, see," Harry croaked. "I didn't lure Ginny out of the common room, she was waiting on me when I left the dungeons. _She_ attacked _me_ when I told her I wasn't interested in her." The lies, strangely, didn't taste as bad as he thought they would. If she could lie and accuse him, then a white lie in retaliation wasn't truly outside his morals, especially if it saved him from being beaten in the corridors, and saved Snape from certain death. He still wasn't entirely sure where the hell this was supposed to go and wasn't yet prepared to think that far ahead.

"What's going on?" McGonagall demanded, approaching the group that had drawn the eye of everyone in the Great Hall. Dumbledore approached beyond her.

"I do believe Severus and Harry have just publicly acknowledged their relationship," Dumbledore said idly. Harry gaped at the old wizard, certain one, or both, of them had gone mad. Dumbledore was playing along. Dumbledore was _encouraging _the lie.

Snape eyed his employer suspiciously. "Headmaster?"

"Oh come, Severus," Dumbledore said, smiling sunnily. "You can't truly believe I didn't know, or at least suspect. I do wish you had come to me, however, and we might've avoided this whole situation of Harry sneaking around after hours. After all, it isn't against the rules for a teacher to carry on a relationship with a Seventh-Year student."

"You're not angry, Headmaster?" Snape asked, sounding convincingly uncertain.

Dumbledore winked. "I've suspected quite some time."

Harry gaped at the old man. This lie just kept growing, but as he took in the faces around him, he realized his accusers actually seemed to be believing it. He was awed at the swiftness with which Snape and Dumbledore had fallen in line with the ludicrous claim. Suddenly, he wondered what was going to happen once the crowd was satisfied with the lie.

"If he's your boyfriend," Ginny snarled, pushing through the crowd. "Then why don't you kiss him and prove it?"

Harry looked at Snape, then turned back to the girl. "No," He said immediately. His accusers began to frown in suspicion once more, and he hastened to add, "We haven't gotten there yet. We're taking things slow, and the first time we kiss isn't going to be because you demanded it, and certainly not in front of the entire school."

"You're so full of it!" Ginny cried indignantly.

"Well, he wouldn't kiss you," Ron said softly, his gears turning. "You were together for a little over a month, and I never saw you guys kiss."

"And that would be against the rules," McGonagall said in clipped tones. "Whatever may happen behind closed doors, a teacher and student cannot outwardly express a relationship until the student has graduated."

Harry sighed with relief as Hermione nodded. "It's true," She said. "It's in _Hogwarts, A History_, exactly that. Harry's old enough to consent to a relationship, but public displays raise questions about favoritism."

"But they hate each other!" Ginny cried desperately, watching the tide of public opinion begin to turn against her. The gathered students were beginning to turn their accusing eyes towards her.

Harry looked at Snape worriedly, but the man only smirked. "Not for some time," The Potions Master said softly.

Harry didn't dare look away from the sincerity in the man's gaze. It was true. He had never hated Snape, and he realized now that the man had, miraculously, chilled out just the year before. Snape had had every right to hate him, after his disastrous Fifth Year, but the man had been no worse than usual, had actually been much more relaxed towards him _and_ his friends. Even after what had happened with Malfoy and the man's own spell, Snape hadn't outwardly been any different.

Harry barely noticed as the crowd began to disperse, stunned, but somehow believing this insane lie. His eyes remained locked with the Potions Master.

"Come," The man instructed softly.

Harry followed obediently as the others returned to their tables. Hermione smirked at him knowingly as he passed her, and he blushed. This was getting way out of hand. Snape led him out into the Entrance Hall and into one of the private, decorative alcoves that bordered the Great Hall. His blush deepened as they stared at one another across the relatively small space.

"That was dumb." Harry said at last. "I kind of… Thank you, for lying for me. I don't- What'll this do to you, with You-Know-Who?"

"After last night, that is no longer a concern," Snape admitted gravely. "You saw the state in which I returned. I've no idea how, but the Dark Lord has become aware of my spying. I was lucky to escape while he monologued, and luckier still that you were there to save my life when I did. This lie is the least of what I owe you, and it will put you at great personal risk, which I think was your intent."

"I can handle it if it keeps you alive, and you don't owe me anything," Harry replied immediately. "I didn't do it so you could owe me, I did it because you needed help."

"Be that as it may, my honor demands we be on equal footing, and this is a start," Snape said. "The question you must answer is what will happen next."

Harry frowned, leaning back against the wall, distraught. "I don't _know_," He groaned. "I mean, I didn't even think anyone would believe me! I didn't think about it at _all_. I guess we could pretend like nothing is different," He suggested. "If we've been dating for however long and never let on, we can just keep going like nothing's changed."

"That would look extremely suspicious, now that the relationship has been aired," Snape pointed out. "Better that we feign a relationship of some kind."

Harry scoffed. "You're serious? You really think we could convince everyone we're secretly dating? Everyone's going to be looking for some sign that we're together. We'd have to completely change our attitudes towards each other. I don't even know how to act in a _real_ relationship!"

Snape's eyebrow rose curiously, and Harry felt his blush darken further.

"I've never been in one," He admitted, embarrassed. "I went on one date with Cho and I was only with Ginny for a month. Ron wasn't lying. We never even kissed. She tried, but… well, after Cho I don't like to run headlong into relationships."

"I see," Snape murmured. He leaned back against his wall as well, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He paused for a moment, thinking, then returned his bright black gaze to Harry's worried green. "Then we shall, indeed, take things slow. If you have never been in a relationship, you can take my cues, and I will be… gentle. To begin, once a week, you should come to my rooms."

"Like every Tuesday or something? Some kind of date night?" Harry asked uncertainly. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Snape.

"Precisely," Snape agreed. "This should give us a week to become accustomed to the new roles we've blundered into."

Harry licked his lips uncertainly. "Okay, but what do I do when I'm with you? I mean… I'd have to be down there for at least an hour, and I don't know how I'm supposed to act _now_, let alone when we're with other people. This- this is insane. I can't believe I dragged you into this. I'm sorry. I can't do this. I don't know how to do this. I don't even know how a relationship _works_, let alone how a fake one would. I mean, what do I say, or do? I can't act suddenly lovesick, just because everyone 'knows', it would look suspicious and I couldn't possibly pull it off." Harry felt his heart rate rising as panic settled into his chest. There was no way he could do this. He found he didn't really mind the idea of _who_ but was terrified by the fact that he had no idea about the _how_.

A gentle hand on his chin lifted his frightened, panicky gaze upward to meet soothing obsidian. Snape smirked. "As I said, you may take your cues from me. Of course, you'll be awkward, but that will only help to sell our foundling accord," Snape explained. "Your friends and classmates are well aware that you are inexperienced and withdrawn. They'll _expect_ that we take things slow, especially as they cannot be sure how long we've supposedly been seeing one another, and we cannot be publicly affectionate. They will not expect our behaviors to change publicly, because of the rules. You may not have a history of following the rules, but I have a long history of enforcing them. It will all be a matter of setting aside our prior animosity. If, however, you do not believe you can do that much, then perhaps…" Snape started to pull back again.

"No!" Harry said quickly, reaching out to the man but falling just short of touching him. "D-don't… You can't really believe I hate you? Even after last night?"

Snape gave a mild shrug, but Harry caught the slightest flicker of uncertainty in the man's gaze.

He smiled in embarrassment. "I don't hate you. I never did, not really, but after what you did for Dumbledore last year… You could've run. You could've played the perfect Death Eater, but you stuck around and saved his life instead. That's probably what eventually led to last night, and you _had_ to know you were putting your own life at risk when you did it, but you did it anyway. After that, it was kind of easy to forgive you for anything you'd ever done to me. Especially when I returned this term and you stopped treating me like shit, if you'll pardon my French."

Snape smirked, his fingers caressing Harry's chin as his hand fell and he stepped back. "That, Mister Potter, is a start. As I said, no one will expect us to emote over one another, it would look more suspicious if we did. Merely treating one another as equals will serve to boggle minds and prove our lie."

Harry grinned to hear Snape call it their lie. It served to make him feel better, and a little wicked, to know he was not in this alone. And, he was sure, Hermione could give him pointers, since she had made herself a part of the lie as well. The tightness in his chest slackened and he took a deep, calming breath. Taking cues from Snape shouldn't be hard. Ron, at least, knew he was distant even with his closest friends, no one would expect him to gush over anyone, especially not Snape, no matter what they claimed their relationship to be. He gave a stiff, grateful nod.

"Thank you. I'm bound to make you regret this, but for now, thank you," He said sincerely.

Snape merely smirked before ducking out of the alcove and returning to the Great Hall.

Harry breathed a shaky laugh, running his fingers through his hair, and told himself he had to be completely mad, even as he moved to follow. Only when he sat at Gryffindor and all of his friends turned to him with bright, questioning eyes, did his panic return. He looked up at Snape, who was already at the Head Table. He blushed when the man winked subtly. He could do this. He had to. He turned back to his friends, who'd watched the brief interaction with interest, and prepared to answer their questions as vaguely as possible.

_-Break-_

Immediately following lunch was, of course, Potions for the Seventh Years. The usual House separation had been abandoned, because after Snape had weeded out the students who'd failed under Slughorn there weren't enough students to warrant it. He had kept anyone who'd managed to maintain at least an E up to and including the final, however, which meant Harry was in the class.

For an hour, Harry felt his breath coming up short whenever he heard the slightest whisper of the Potions Master. The man, who he'd have sworn before today made no noise whatsoever when he moved, had the slightest tells as he moved around the class, instructing and berating. His boots made a rare, soft _snick_ on the stone; his robes constantly brushed along his stride, fabric on fabric; and even his breathing was easy to point out, if you knew what you were looking for. It helped, or didn't, that the entire class was nearly as quiet as a graveyard, everyone afraid to move, let alone speak. It felt like he and Snape were on the cusp of something, and everyone was holding their breath.

The tension finally snapped when Snape approached at Harry's elbow. Harry, for the first time since the class had begun, had failed to hear the man. He felt the presence so very near to him, though, like the air between them was charged with electricity. Slowly, he swept his eyes up and around from his potion. There was the barest smirk, very nearly a smile, on the aristocratic features and Harry's heart fluttered up into his throat. Harry, startled by the look and his heart's sudden eviction, fumbled the glass stirring rod in his hands and dropped it.

The entire class, who were by no means paying their own potions the slightest mind, drew a sharp breath as one as they waited for the loud shatter. Most of them were probably waiting to see what would happen after. The shatter, at least, didn't come, as Snape's quick wand work levitated the rod a foot from the floor, and back up into his hand. He handed the rod over, caressing Harry's fingers lightly as the Gryffindor grinned bashfully.

"You and Miss Granger seem to be the only students capable of following instructions," The man commented lightly. He moved on.

Only when that black gaze was gone did Harry remember how to breathe. He hadn't even seen Snape draw his wand. It was a stunning display, to say the least, and his heart was still rapidly dancing a wild tattoo. A blush suffused his cheeks as the whispers started. They filled the classroom, and for the first time in what was likely Snape's entire career, the Potions Master made no effort to stop them.

Whispers were good. Whispers meant people had seen, and that they were starting to believe the lie. Swallowing past the fluttery lump in his throat, Harry returned his attention to his potion. He was glad he was doing well, but even was even more glad that the Potions Master had noticed. Even without Snape's book he actually had some marginal talent in the class, and now, more than ever, he wanted to prove to the Half-Blood Prince that he could accomplish something. He spent the last hour of the class pretending he wasn't smiling; and pretending he didn't know every silent step his faux boyfriend made.


	4. Chapter 4

As Harry approached Snape's office, he felt his breathing grow thin and quick. He had this horrible feeling that he was heading to his doom; that by now Snape had figured out how to kill him and get away with it. The last week had proven humiliating for them both, as the students continued to be outright mean. Acceptance of the lie, apparently, was not an acceptance of the relationship, and there were a lot of students with sharp tongues or jealous eyes.

Harry hesitated as he drew up to the door. This was suicide. He'd barely survived the week, he couldn't imagine Snape had fared better, and the man was _bound_ to blame him for starting this mess in the first place. Snape had been right, following his cues had been cake. The most they did was occasionally smile privately at each other across the room, and Harry thought it actually helped that he couldn't make himself stop blushing when they did. The fact that this small action proved the relationship so well merely meant that the students were, for various reasons, disgusted, angry, or just plain jealous, of both of them. Steeling his nerves, he raised his fist to knock.

And withdrew it immediately to run through his hair. He turned away as if to leave, then turned back. He could do this, he had to do this. He raised his fist, then froze when he heard giggles down the corridor. He looked and paled upon seeing a tight group of younger Year Slytherins watching him agonize. Finally, he knocked. He had to. Snape immediately called for him to enter, and Harry did so almost furtively, just to escape the eyes on him. The Potions Master continued to work as Harry moved into the office, forcing himself not to scuttle out of sheer nerves. Finally, the man looked up. Harry relaxed a little as the man wore a dashing smirk.

"I wondered if you would ever knock," The man teased lightly.

Harry closed his eyes with humiliation as he remembered Snape's wards. "I, um… well, I didn't think you'd want to see me at this point. I assumed you had been catching it way worse than I had."

"You can be assured of that," Snape told him, his smirk never faltering. "However, I find my dull life has gained my renewed interest with this scandal. Believe it or not, Mister Potter, it can be quite boring to be constantly feared or hated."

"And," Harry said, bantering back. "The word you're looking for there is 'and'." He smiled, relaxing a little further.

"Quite," Snape agreed. The Potions Master stood, gathering the parchment he'd been working with, and began to lead Harry to his quarters. Harry didn't follow, his nerves bristling.

"Couldn't we just… sit in here? I don't want to invade your space after everything else."

Snape smirked over his shoulder. "No less than three students, not only Slytherins, will likely find a reason to knock on my door tonight. They will be hoping to see a glimpse of you, or of where you are. If we have been seeing one another, as you have claimed, for near to three weeks, then to keep our relationship relegated to my office would be highly suspicious."

Harry blushed as he realized the man was right. He swallowed his bedraggled nerves and followed him into his quarters. Harry waited nervously by the hidden door, fingering the strap of his school bag, until Snape gestured to his couch in invitation. Harry moved to it and sat on the edge of the seat, at the middle. Snape sat in a chair off to the side, and Harry let himself relax again, just a little. He felt like an intruder in this sacred space, but this did not stop him looking around curiously. He'd been too frantic to really see it before. There were small mementos and art on shelves and tables around the room, which was decorated tastefully in earth tones that met the mood of the dungeon's natural chill. Harry looked at Snape, who was all-but ignoring him as he studied the papers before him intently.

Harry finally convinced himself to relax completely, and he began pulling out his homework as Snape took over the other end of the coffee table with his own work. They worked in silence, and Harry lost himself in the strange comfort he felt. He couldn't do this with his friends. He'd managed it once or twice with Hermione, just silently enjoying each other's company, but Ron was usually around to ruin it. And Snape… Harry found not a trace of his anxiety remained. Snape had always made him wary, but after a week of pretending to be in a relationship with him, defending him nearly constantly, he felt a closeness to the man he'd never suspected possible. It had taken saying it aloud, but he'd begun to realize just how much he and the Potions Master had in common. There was a lot, the least of which being their involvement in the war.

_-Break-_

Harry was walking down the corridor from the library a week later. The corridor was empty, most students in class, but Harry was in the midst of the only free period he had without Hermione. Ron was disgusted with him and had ceased talking to him under the caveat that Harry stop seeing "that slimy git". Harry, who had already had two attempts to attack him fail, was glad every day that he'd made this choice. Snape, being older, better, and a professor, was practically untouchable by would-be student enemies. Harry, however, had no such protections. As he'd hoped, everyone's focus was on him. Not only from Slytherin, the would-be assassins automatically saw him as a weaker target. Eventually, someone would get bold and attack Snape directly, but Harry was sure he could stand guard even then.

Not _everyone_ had bought Harry's claims, however, and there was also a small sect of students who looked to harm him in some way because of Ginny's claims. The girl still spoke frequently of his supposed attack, the plot growing more elaborate each time she told it. Ron and their brothers knew she was full of it, but that didn't stop a portion of Hogwarts from believing her.

Harry caught the sound of muffled footsteps behind him and smirked. Another attack. At this point, there was no telling how skewed the points were going to be. There were already three students in detention until Christmas, and sans privileges for the entire term. Two Slytherins and a Gryffindor. Harry readied to turn to face these new challengers but was interrupted before he made it more than halfway. From the darkened alcove he'd paused in front of came the heavily robed figure of the resident Potions Master. Harry backed against the wall instinctively and flinched involuntarily when Snape leaned close. The man smirked, leaning down and speaking quietly.

"What are you doing out alone, Mister Potter?" The man asked in a sultry voice that Harry knew was carrying down the corridor to his attackers.

Harry, trembling with adrenaline, reached out and wrapped his arms around the man's neck. "I had it handled." He whispered quietly.

Snape's smirk twitched threateningly. "There are five of them, and you had your back to only three."

Harry glanced to the side and did indeed spy two more students further down the corridor, too far away to see their House badges. He shrugged. "I still could've handled it."

"Of that I have no doubt," Snape murmured, sliding his arms around Harry's waist. "You are as stubborn as your mother ever was. However, this sends a message that I am a constant threat, unseen but always present. That should stop the bulk of the threats against you."

Harry smiled. "Leaving only the worst. And, of course, you'll have to catch me 'alone' at least a few more times for the message to get sent."

"Are you suggesting, Mister Potter, that I have better things to do than torture you in an effort to protect you?" Snape said, nuzzling Harry's neck. As if to prove the point, Harry flinched again. "I assure you, I do not."

Harry chuckled, ignoring his own reaction. "Liar. But thank you. Eventually, someone was going to get lucky when I wavered under the sheer volume."

Snape drew away sharply when one of the group that had been behind Harry scuffed their foot against the floor while trying to back away. They both looked appropriately guilty at being caught, and Snape gathered himself before scowling at the students who had "caught" them.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Snape demanded of the Gryffindor and two Hufflepuffs.

Harry cleared his throat, slipping away as Snape began to berate the Sixth Years. He ran his fingers along the back of Snape's hand to sell the parting and turned at the next corridor, even though it would take him the long way back to Gryffindor. Best to avoid the other two students, who couldn't follow him now without drawing attention to themselves.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a little over a month since Harry had somehow convinced his friends and classmates that he was secretly dating the notoriously cruel Potions Master. In that time, the news had finally reached the papers, and two more attempts on Harry's life had been disrupted by Snape's sudden, unexpected appearance. They had yet to discuss how they were going to end things, and Harry was secretly glad about that. If they split now, the attacks on them both would increase, undoubtedly; and there was also the matter of Ginevra Weasley, who had yet to stall her attempts to seduce Harry, even as she continued to spread her own, hate-filled, lies. Harry was also secretly grateful for the pretend relationship for an even more selfish reason: people were leaving him alone. Ron and their other friends were coming around (Harry was still too scared to ask if Hermione knew the truth or not), and the rest of the school seemed to be growing to accept the pairing more every day. The upshot was that Harry didn't have to put up with lame attempts at seduction, save from Ginny, and could spend his time in peace.

Unsurprising for a Seventh Year, he had begun spending much of his free time in the library, often sans-company. He found the stacks to be a beautiful place of respite, of peace and tranquility, and often escaped there in the evenings after classes, when his House common room was full of his noisy classmates. It was here that he was found by the last person he expected, on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Harry jumped lightly when a pale hand touched the book he was studying intently. He chuckled at himself as he looked up at the Potions Master at the other end of the arm. Snape smirked lightly.

"I did not think this was in the curriculum," The man said, his tone soft. Even so, several students looked up at the sound of his gravelly baritone and turned their full attentions to the interaction.

Harry blushed lightly. Even after a month, their public interactions were so rare that they were still a point of fascination. He cleared his throat, opting to ignore their audience.

"It's not, this is purely knowledge for the sake of answering a question." Snape's eyebrow rose curiously. Harry grinned, blushing further. "I'm allowed to have a curious side. I received Hedwig as a gift, but everything I've found says that a familiar chooses its owner. All of these books," Harry gestured at the pile beside him, "And none of them explain how I came by a familiar purely by chance."

"And that stack?" Snape inquired with interest.

Harry rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "That's just for fun. The sorts of spells I feel I should know. And potions, obviously. There's a wealth of potion classifications you never even touch on. Did you know that there are potions that let you become certain animals temporarily? I mean, they're way beyond my skills, you'd have to be a Master to even attempt them, and be… well, you, if you actually want them to work, but still. The explanation behind them actually sheds a lot of light on things I've never understood before. If we weren't all talentless dunderheads, you could use _these_ to teach us about ingredient and cauldron interactions."

"Research for research sake, Mister Potter?" Snape teased gently.

"What can I say," Harry answered, grinning. "I guess it was only a matter of time until Hermione rubbed off on me. I just wish I had more time to find the treasures hidden here. But, between classes and homework, I'll be lucky to see maybe a fifth of the library before I graduate." He put on a sad face. "Woe is me, for coming into my curiosity too late for it to do any good."

Snape's smirk slipped into a gentle smile, the barest upturn of the corners of his mouth. His eyes, inscrutable, held a depth of emotion Harry didn't understand. But there was a touch of sadness, in the smile and in the eyes, which Harry knew all too well.

"What?" He asked nervously.

"You remind me of your mother," Snape said, this time his voice so soft as to let only Harry hear.

The Gryffindor blushed. "I… thank you."

Snape surprised him again, this time by taking the seat on the other side of the table and looking at him with clear confusion on his normally stoic features.

"I'd give anything to get out from under my father's shadow," Harry admitted quietly. "My mum, though… I don't so much mind living in her shadow."

A pale hand reached out and touched the back of his, and the Gryffindor flinched before moving his hand back in reach of those gentle fingers.

"You are your own person," Snape said softly. "Never let anyone tell you different, Mister Potter. There is a little of him in you, and a lot of her, but the man you've become is entirely you, the good and the bad. You are not your parents. If I might speak frankly, I think you have become a much better confluence than either of them might have hoped for, and I truly believe that they would be proud of how you turned out."

Harry felt his heart flutter in his chest as he grinned. "That has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you."

Snape smirked, standing from the table. "That said, I shall give you the same advice I once gave Lily: your research will go much smoother if you extend a little kindness to your facilitator."

They glanced together to the stern library matron who was moving in and out of tables, ensuring the life of each book that had been taken from their sacred shelves. Laughing green met pointed onyx again, and they shared a moment.

"And I bet you put it just like that, too," Harry teased.

Snape surprised him (and everyone else in earshot) by chuckling lightly. "More or less, Mister Potter. Enjoy your afternoon."

_-Break-_

That night, Harry sighed harshly for the thousandth time as he shuffled through the papers that made up his private career research. He'd started coming down more often, at Snape's suggestion. He now came down at least twice a week, not always on the same days, and had begun to think of the man's rooms as a refuge. No one could bother him here, and it was where he'd finally decided to look at other options for life after Hogwarts. He was getting nowhere. He knew what he wanted, he wanted to stay at Hogwarts, but the harsh words of his friends were keeping him from settling on something. Glancing to his right, he saw Snape smirking lightly as he graded his own stack of papers. He knew the man was waiting for him to speak, but he was loathe to do it. He didn't want to burden the Potions Master with his personal problems, on top of everything else. The black gaze met his briefly, and the smirk grew, and Harry opened his mouth without wanting to.

"Can we talk?" Harry blurted. He mentally slapped himself before Snape chuckled lightly. "I mean… well, I know you're working, and I shouldn't bother you on top of everything else, but I don't really have anyone I can go to about this." He said in a quick breath.

The man looked up, still smirking his half-smile. "What is on your mind?"

Harry blushed at getting the man's full attention so quickly. Even Hermione only half paid him any mind unless she could correct him. He sighed roughly once more, making the Potions Master chuckle again. "I… I'm a little lost about my future."

Snape's smirk faltered and he gestured for Harry to continue.

"I know I want to stay at Hogwarts," Harry said softly, leaning his elbows on his knees. "But I don't really want to teach, at least not yet, not until I'm older and wiser. Ron just barely started talking to me again when he accepted that this," He gestured between them, "Wasn't going away, but now he's mad that I won't be pursuing Auror training, as we agreed in Fifth Year. He said it's a waste of my talents."

"I see," Snape replied, frowning. "As I recall, you quite successfully healed me," The man observed. "Have you thought about pursuing healing? I'm sure Poppy would love to have an assistant."

Harry scowled. "That's what Hermione said after an ill-timed comment from Professor McGonagall. But after some thought, I decided I couldn't work for someone who can switch loyalties at the drop of a hat and accuse me of travesties without the slightest bit of evidence."

"Ah, I take it Madame Pomfrey has not set aside her suspicions regarding what occurred between yourself and Miss Weasley?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, she has, she's accepted that you and I are in a relationship. But for her to believe so quickly and so strongly that I attacked Ginny… I feel betrayed. Maybe someday I'll forgive her, but right now the thought of working in close quarters with her is prohibitive, to say the least, and I'm not really sure I want to be a healer. I'm kind of tired of everyone's life being in my hands, you know? Of course, Hermione thinks I'm being selfish, withholding my natural skill from people who need it just because of a 'bruised ego'. And I know she's right, and I am good at healing magic, I just…"

"It is not what you wish to spend your life doing," Snape finished for him. "Your friends seem to think they should be the ones running your life."

"Be fair," Harry argued. "They just…" The Gryffindor frowned. "Actually, you're not wrong. But that doesn't help me decide what to do between now and teaching, once I've got the experience."

"Have you given any thought to what _you_ would like?"

Harry nodded, blushing. He couldn't believe Snape was listening like this. He'd never had anyone listen to him this way, letting him work out for himself what he wanted to say and do without feeling pressure to get to the point. Hermione was always trying to guess what he wanted to say, and was usually wrong, leading to a lot of confusion and very little resolution. Ron zoned out if Harry spoke more than a few sentences. Snape, however, seemed to, remarkably, understand the trail of his thoughts, and, even more remarkable, seemed willing to let Harry map it out on his own, with the barest guidance.

Snape moved forward to the edge of his seat, setting down his quill and half-graded quiz. "Mister Potter, I am going to tell you something that your mother told me."

Harry gaped openly. It was still a shock to hear the man speak of his mum. He felt honored each time it happened, as if he were being given a glimpse into the true character of Severus Snape. Especially once he'd heard back from Remus about the first time the Potions Master had mentioned her. Finding out they'd been friends had been eye-opening.

Snape's eyes found his, and he held the gaze. "The only master you have to serve in this life is yourself."

Harry frowned, not sure he understood, and Snape smirked gently.

"Shortly after our career guidance sessions, Lily said that to me. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I believe I do now," Snape explained. "There is the obvious, that no one else can govern your life unless you let them, and there is the metaphorical. In this case, just because you have talent in an area, that does not mean you must pursue it at the cost of your own happiness."

"You did," Harry argued.

"How so?" The Potions Master challenged, his eyebrow rising curiously.

"Well, you have talent in potions, and you teach."

"And you believe I have sacrificed my happiness?" Snape queried.

Harry opened his mouth to immediately agree, but the confusion in Snape's eyes gave him pause. "Haven't you?"

"Not in the least, Mister Potter," Snape answered. "I teach because I enjoy doing so. I could have left at the end of the first war, or any time in the ensuing years before the Dark Lord's return. However, I never did, because teaching suits me. My Head of House wanted me to pursue my Mastery for selfish reasons, he wanted me to write, and invent. When I expressed a desire to pass on my knowledge through teaching, he laughed at me and told me I was a fool."

"Yeah, but what about the fact that you aren't teaching the _class_ you want?" Harry pointed out triumphantly.

Snape gave a light shrug. "That has no bearing on my happiness. I love to teach, despite what my students may think. Teaching Defense is merely a byproduct of my desire to best prepare my students. I knew the Dark Lord was not gone, and I used to believe that teaching Defense would help me save the lives of my students. Potions change lives, they don't save them, or so I believed. However, my beliefs have since shifted and I now take great pride in my work here at the school, and in my continued experiments and inventions. It is why I returned to my classroom this term."

"What changed your mind?" Harry asked curiously.

"You did," Snape said softly. "You saved your friend's life because of something I wrote in a book when I was 16. I realized that I'd simply been looking at my talents in the wrong light. I wasn't given my gift with Potions to _destroy_, I was given them to create, and to save. This term reflects that. I completely rewrote my curriculum, allowing for… frivolity, to better assist my students with recognizing what took me so long to realize myself: Potions are not a means to an end, potions are useful, and they can be fun, and most importantly, they can save lives. My only regret is that it took me so long to realize what I'd been doing wrong."

Harry grinned. "All that because I shoved a bezoar down Ron's throat?" Snape gave a slow nod, causing Harry to chuckle. "Alright, so I don't _have_ to pursue something just because I'm good at it. And what I want is allowed to change. But what about finding work here? Where do I fit?"

Snape smirked. "I believe you already know the answer to that."

Harry's eyes widened when he realized Snape had somehow read his train of thought too well. To be known so succinctly was terrifying. He blushed again, wondering if telepathy was just another one of the man's hidden talents. The alternative was even more frightening: Snape had _noticed_ him, had seen where his joys lie, and was now encouraging them. It was an observation none of his friends, no matter how close, had ever made. Snape smirked at the surprise on his face, but didn't speak. Finally, Harry nodded.

"You're right," He agreed. "The only problem is whether she'd let me."

"You can but ask," Snape told him softly. He glanced at the clock on the mantle. "It is near curfew. You had best return to your dorm before Miss Weasley tries yet again to seduce you."

Harry shuddered, gathering his things into his bag. "Yeah… I still can't believe she keeps trying while lying through her teeth about me to everyone that'll listen."

"It is simply one of those mysteries of the female mind I will never understand," Snape chuckled.

Harry laughed and shouldered his bag. "Thanks, for talking with me, and for keeping this going even though you have the entire Potter fan club to contend with in the corridors."

Snape shrugged. "They are but a nuisance. It is a pleasure."

Harry scoffed self-deprecatingly, truly convinced that nothing about being forced to spend time with him as well as fend off a slew of irate students could possibly be pleasurable. Still, it was kind of the man to say so. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the Potions Master, who had returned to his grading, and a small smile touched his lips. Pretend relationship though they may have, he wondered if they couldn't become _real_ friends. He had tested those waters tonight, and Snape seemed amenable. It was a good start, and Harry felt hope blossom in his chest. Snape was a surprising, interesting, and good-hearted man who seemed to get him on a level his supposed best friends didn't even know existed. He was glad, suddenly, for the fake relationship; not because he was protecting the Potions Master, which he was glad for every day, but because without it he may never have discovered just how queerly easy they could get along.


	6. Chapter 6

A few days after Harry had first begun exploring the opportunity for friendship with Snape, he found himself inexplicably delighted to see the man walking down the corridor ahead of him. It was another chance to test their accord, and with this unexpected opportunity Harry found himself bursting at the seams to speak with the man, forget privacy. He pushed past a group of Third Years and fell into step beside the Potions Master.

"Go on," Harry said, grinning as Snape smirked down at him. "Ask me how my day is going."

Snape's eyebrow rose, but he did not ask about Harry's day. "A public conversation?" The man hailed. "How scandalous, Mister Potter."

Harry chuckled. "You started it," He pointed out. "Now go on, ask me. I'm dying to tell you."

Obsidian eyes rolled with feigned exasperation. "How is your day?"

"She said yes!" Harry crowed, barely letting the last word die on thin lips. Snape smirked. "She said I can start apprenticing _this term_. She'll teach me how to organize the stacks, and the spells she uses to shelve the books! And if I prove my worth, she'll even let me help her maintain the Restricted Section after Christmas. I won't be allowed to hang around in there, obviously, and I'll still need permission to read or borrow anything therein, but there's _trust_! And if I pass my apprenticeship, she'll put my employment as her assistant before the Board at the end of term!"

"Congratulations, Mister Potter," Snape replied. "I'm glad you've found your niche. I find I must repeat myself."

Harry's brow furrowed, even as his smile remained.

"Your parents would be proud," Snape murmured, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and ignoring the flinch this caused. "Was that the only reason you sought me out?"

Harry blushed. "Well, I wouldn't call it seeking you out; I just saw you and realized I didn't want to wait until tomorrow to share the good news with you. Besides, it looks better for our relationship if we start spending time together outside of your rooms, and everyone else is avoiding me like the plague because of what day it is."

Snape smirked. "On that subject," He said lightly. "I have business in Hogsmeade this afternoon, before the Feast. Perhaps you would like to accompany me?"

Harry grinned excitedly, then frowned with uncertainty. "Is that allowed?"

Snape's smirk returned with a hint of malice. "With permission from your Head of House."

"That's going to be an interesting conversation," Harry groaned apprehensively.

An eyebrow quirked above the mischievous smile. "Of that I have no doubt. Meet me at the gates, should you rally the courage to ask."

Harry gaped at the sly look in those obsidian pools. "So, you already know what she's going to say?"

"Of course."

"But you're going to make me ask, anyway."

Snape smirked and continued walking. Harry stopped and grinned, ignoring his blush. He turned towards the Grand Staircase, where he was sure to find McGonagall in her Fifth Floor office.

_-Break-_

Harry met Snape at the gates of the school an hour later, excited to be going to Hogsmeade without the school crowds, and even more excited to be accompanying the man on unknown errands. The longer they kept the charade going, the more Harry found he _enjoyed_ time with the Potions Master. They had so much in common, as surprising as that was, and he learned something new every day he spent in Snape's company. It was the sort of friendship he'd always seen between Sirius and Remus, but not the sort he'd ever shared himself. It felt like a betrayal, to think such a thing when Ron and Hermione had survived so many adventures with him, but he couldn't help how he felt. It was like comparing apples and oranges.

As they reached the edge of the village, Harry decided to address the growing tension between them regarding their relationship.

"I think we should keep this going," He said boldly.

Snape glanced at him with a smirk.

"I know that might seem like a stupid idea," Harry agreed. "But hear me out. The threats on my life, and yours, would only get worse if we ended things. I have no romantic prospects, and I'm not really interested in finding any, at least not within the school. It's not that I don't _want_ a relationship, it's just that I haven't found anyone worth forming one with. And with Gin being so obnoxious, starting a real relationship with a girl could put whoever that is at risk for retaliation. I mean, obviously if you have your eye on some lucky lady, I'll gladly step aside and figure out another way of protecting you, but… I just think keeping this going, at least until the end of term, is better for both of us."

"I actually hold no interest in the fairer sex," Snape replied casually.

"Oh," Harry said, frowning. "That explains a lot. Still, the offer stands. If you'd rather end things and seek out companionship with, you know, a real person, I'd totally understand, but I really think what we have is better for everyone involved."

Snape gave a slight nod. "I find myself in agreement," He said softly. "I had rather not spend the next several months looking over my shoulder, and it would give me peace of mind to know that you're under my protection, and I under yours. As to romantic prospects, I haven't any. Unsurprisingly, my past has made it difficult to form lasting connections. Aside from the occasional date, I don't think I've been in a relationship since before you came to Hogwarts."

"Well, that's just stupid," Harry said, scowling. "You're a catch. You're interesting, you've got a great sense of humor, you're not bad to look at. Your past shouldn't define you."

Snape shrugged. "It is not something that has ever bothered me. Even when prospects have looked past my dark history, I've found it difficult to connect with them."

Harry scowled down at his feet as they walked. That was just… unfair. He hadn't lied, he really believed Snape was an amazing person. They were still testing the waters of friendship, but Harry found himself really angry at the faceless men who had rejected the Potions Master. Everyone made mistakes, and stupid choices were just a part of life. The man had been his age when he'd sworn his life to Voldemort, and, despite his own experience, Harry knew from watching his other friends that even intelligence didn't preclude stupid decisions. However, just like Snape, his own mistakes always had far-reaching consequences. But if the world could forgive him at every turn, he didn't see why they couldn't for the former Death Eater. And the man had made up for it all at great personal risk by turning to Dumbledore.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry wondered aloud. "I mean, without you getting angry. You're welcome to not answer if I'm prying where you'd rather I didn't. But Remus told me something about you and my mum, and I've been wondering about it ever since."

Snape clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes, I joined the Death Eaters after your mother ended our friendship." The man said, answering the question weighing on the Gryffindor's mind with what might have been indifference. Harry was stunned and wondered again about mind-reading. Snape continued. "She was the only woman I have ever loved, and a broken heart is not something easily overcome. It is not uncommon, for those in their youth, to form strong attachments to close friends. As she was the only friend I had ever had, prior to our Fifth Year, it was almost preordained that I fall for her."

Harry felt a slight pain in his chest. It hadn't ever occurred to him that Snape had loved his mum, he'd only meant to ask what had led the man to joining the Dark Lord. Now that he knew, his heart felt suddenly sick. He couldn't imagine falling in love and never being able to tell them. His mum had died believing her best friend had betrayed her. Snape could never take back whatever harsh words they'd parted with. Harry didn't know what he'd do if he lost Hermione because of a few angry words, and he didn't love Hermione anything like the way Snape felt for his mum. Harry drew a sharp breath. "Okay… do… do you-?"

"I do." Snape answered softly. "I imagine I will go to my grave carrying a torch for Lily. However, that does not prevent me becoming attracted to someone else, or, Deity-willing, falling in love again. It's merely a matter of perception."

"Do you _want_ to fall in love again?" Harry asked carefully, unsure at the nervousness he felt.

"I do," Snape said again.

Harry swallowed thickly, curious as to what had caused the lump in his throat. He wished he could do something for the man, take away his pain. It was impossible, though. Overtaken by his own sadness, and still pondering the odd feeling of remorse that had taken up residence in his chest, the Boy Who Lived decided it was best to change the subject. It was just too confusing, and he had no idea where to start to begin sorting out the different, warring emotions going on inside of him. He wished he hadn't started this line of query and couldn't fathom what had prompted him to ask in the first place. The only feeling he knew for sure he felt was angry confusion at the unfairness of the older wizard's life.

As they continued down the street, Harry almost wished Voldemort _would_ launch an attack, just to break the tension. It was a Halloween tradition that Harry loathed but would suddenly have welcomed. He glanced at Snape, but the man seemed unperturbed by the direction of their conversation.

"You're being awfully talkative," He said, a little suspicious.

The Potions Master shrugged. "You are quite easy to talk to," He excused nonchalantly. "I find myself jealous of your friends. It's rare to find someone as open and honest as you are."

"Thank you…But… _we're_ friends, aren't we?" Harry asked uncertainly. He suddenly felt foolish for the presumption that he and Snape were anything more than one another's alibi.

"I do believe we are," The man replied gently, causing Harry to sigh with relief. "Mister Potter… I-"

A sudden clash and clatter of metal down an alley they were passing interrupted whatever the man had intended to say. In the blink of an eye, Harry found himself pressed up against the wall of a shop, Snape forming a body shield around him. Harry gaped at the man as a stray cat came sauntering from the alley.

"N-no one's ever done that before," Harry breathed with disbelief.

Snape looked deep into his eyes before drawing back. He smirked. "There are many who would give their life for yours, Mister Potter. I am merely one of them."

Harry scoffed. "You're so full of it."

Snape smirked, holding out his hand. "If you like."

The Gryffindor took the pale hand in his and they began to walk down the road once more.


	7. Chapter 7

A hard, jarring shiver worked its' way up Harry's spine as he stepped out of the Owlery. Winter had come upon Hogwarts sharply, but it wasn't only the cold that made him shiver. As November drew to a close, Harry had come to accept the fact that there was something really wrong with Ginny, something that wasn't going to resolve before Christmas. She'd stopped spreading her lies, without taking back anything she'd already said, and had begun trying in earnest to seduce him away from the Potions Master. She seemed to believe he was "dating" Snape as a way of making her jealous. Harry was a little worried about how quickly she'd succumbed to her delusions, but he was out of ideas about how to fix her.

Harry leaned on the stone wall that bordered the stairs outside of the Owlery, staring out at the grounds of Hogwarts. He was angry, and he was heartbroken, and he found himself contemplating the Horcrux that resided inside him, and the death that would fix that. It was the closest he'd ever felt to being suicidal. Ron was, yet again, not talking to him, largely because of the letter he'd just sent with Hedwig; a letter for Mrs. Weasley, letting her know that she should not expect him for Christmas. Ron seemed to think that the house was big enough to let him easily avoid Ginny and refused to understand that Harry didn't want to put the rest of the Weasleys in the middle of this mess.

Harry wondered if Albus would consider taking care of the Horcrux during the Christmas Holiday. If he _did_ survive, he could at least spend the break in the Hospital Wing, instead of tooling around the castle, reminded every second that he was alone. Hermione was going home for Christmas, same as Ron, and Harry couldn't recall a single Christmas where any of his other friends had stayed at Hogwarts. He was going to be the only one in his dorm for Christmas, and already he hated the tower for the loneliness it represented.

The Gryffindor jumped a little when a tall figure leaned back against the stone wall beside him. He looked to see the Potions Master, head tilted slightly to the side and arms crossed over his chest beneath his thick winter cloak. Harry blushed, but found himself smiling despite the depression gripping his heart. The two of them had begun spending more and more time together, and Harry felt the weight on his shoulders lift the slightest bit as he recalled that they were going to Hogsmeade later today.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Snape asked gently.

Harry grinned, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment at being caught in the midst of a pity party. "I don't think they're worth that much," He said.

Snape's brow furrowed. "I take it you've realized you're going to be spending Christmas alone," He spoke intuitively.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked in return, honestly baffled. "I know you aren't reading my thoughts, but… The way you know what I'm thinking is scary sometimes."

Snape shrugged, but didn't answer.

Harry turned towards him. "Well, however you do it, you're right, as per. I'm wallowing."

"Well, at least you're aware of it," Snape said, smirking.

The Gryffindor blushed, and shivered sharply as the icy wind gusted around them. He withdrew slightly into his threadbare cloak. He hadn't replaced his winter cloak since Mrs. Weasley had bought him one in Fourth Year but was wishing now that he had. Snape reached out and rubbed Harry's upper arms to warm them. Harry felt the heat coming off of the Potions Master and moved towards it like a moth to a flame. Snape smirked, straightening from his slouch, and drew his wand, casting a warming charm. Harry grinned, blushing harder.

He looked down, afraid to move away, although he knew he should. There was no one around to see, so he had no right to be so close, but the charm and the warmth the man exuded was making him feel the slightest bit better. He thought again of the Horcrux inside him, and of what it would cost to be rid of it. It was selfish, to think not of _why_ it should be destroyed, and only how he would benefit, but he couldn't help it. It hurt him deeply that he had lost the only real family he'd ever known just because he'd been foolish enough to date their youngest member. A finger on his chin tilted his gaze up to meet onyx.

"I can't imagine the pain you must feel," The Potions Master said gently. "But this _will_ pass, Mister Potter. The Weasleys still love you like their own. I cannot promise that Miss Weasley will accept your rejection, and I cannot promise that your future with her family won't be strained, but Molly and Arthur will _always_ think of you as a seventh son, no matter what happens between you and their daughter."

"You really think so?" Harry murmured uncertainly.

"I don't have to, it is fact," Snape replied soothingly. "If there were but some way to take away your pain, I would, but I can only assure you that what you feel is temporary. Time heals all wounds, and this is no exception."

Harry gave a burdened half-smile. "Thank you," He said. "I know you're right, and I know I'm going to feel better soon. It just doesn't feel that way right now. I wish I had something to distract me, but I've already finished all my homework for the week, and Madame Pince won't let me work during class hours."

Snape smirked. "I can think of a few ways to distract you."

Harry felt his breath hitch as obsidian eyes glanced down at his mouth. He felt his cheeks warm, and he wanted to pull away, but found he couldn't. Then he heard what the Potions Master likely already had: footsteps and chattering coming towards them. He flinched when the man's other hand touched his side, drawing him even closer. His heartrate picked up speed, hammering in his ears, as the Potions Master slowly lowered his head towards him. The lump that had formed in his throat was making it hard to breathe, and Harry barely stopped another flinch when the man's thumb joined his finger, tilting Harry's head back slightly.

Finally, when it seemed there was nothing left but to really kiss, the approaching students came around the bend in the stairs. Their chattering stopped abruptly as the Gryffindor and Potions Master drew apart with feigned guilt. Harry swallowed dryly when he realized Ginny was among the group that had interrupted them. Blushing fiercely, he wrapped his cloak securely around him and pushed past the group, escaping down the steps. His racing heart ached at the betrayal on his stalker's face, and he wondered again how deep this rift would go, before he could never see his adoptive family again.


	8. Chapter 8

"I think it might be prudent to spend more time together during the holiday," Snape said, breaking the comfortable silence in his quarters.

Harry didn't look up from his homework. "You're probably right."

The silence resumed as Harry put the finishing touches on his essay, then he looked up as something occurred to him. "You aren't saying that just because I'm alone for Christmas, are you?"

Snape smirked over his grading. "In large part, yes, but not only so that I might lessen your loneliness. We have been seeing one another for nearly three months, and your staying at Hogwarts might be construed as a desire to be with me. I know it isn't, and you know it isn't, but our watchers will be suspicious. Even those who understand why you're remaining would be suspicious if we didn't spend time together, given the opportunity."

"Okay, but what about the rules? And what happens if Dumbledore strings up mistletoe again?" Harry asked, packing away his finished essay and pulling out his Charms book to start the next.

Snape's brow furrowed. "The rules still apply to holidays, and I believe we can escape with a peck to the cheek, if you can handle that much. Which brings up an interesting point I've been avoiding until now."

Harry blushed. "What did I do?"

Snape looked up at him with a concerned frown. "You flinch every time I touch you." He said. Harry looked away, refusing to reply. "I've noticed… it isn't only me. You flinch when even your closest friends touch you, especially when you aren't expecting it. When you have sufficient time to prepare for the contact, you're fine, but if your friend surprises you, you draw away. With me, you do it every time, though."

"Don't ask me why," Harry pleaded, still refusing to meet the Potions Master's eye. "I don't know the answer. I've never known the answer. Before Hogwarts, it was conditioning. Now, though… I don't know. I just can't help that instance of fear that this time it'll hurt, this time it'll break me, like I'm cracked glass."

The Gryffindor started violently when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find the Potions Master had somehow moved to sit beside him on the couch without a sound. The concern on Snape's face made his chest hurt, and he wished he could stop it. He wished he could stop making the people around him look like that, because beneath the concern was hurt, the belief that he didn't trust them, and he did. He just couldn't convince himself of that. Because it wasn't just fear that they would hurt him, but a fear that he might hurt them. He'd known since he was very young that there was a dark cruel streak in him, and try as he might, he knew it wasn't there because of the Horcrux, he knew that that angry, conniving, destructive beast was him, a part of him that would never die, a monster in his heart that was born of the cruelties he'd faced. He was terrified every day that that monster would win, and even the smallest kindness made him wonder how many he would hurt when it did.

"Potter," Snape murmured gently, his grip on the Gryffindor's shoulder firm and grounding. "I would never hurt you."

Harry felt tears begin to gather and grow, and tried to blink them away, succeeding only in having them slip down his cheeks. "I wish I could believe that… but I hurt the people around me all the time. How can I trust they won't do the same?"

Snape sighed. "Mister Potter, you are not the first to believe there's a monster inside of you, and you will not be the last. Everyone has their own personal demon that they must wrestle in their lifetime."

"Except I actually do have a monster inside of me," Harry pointed out. "Even if I don't hurt you… My cowardice regarding the Horcrux I carry is hurting people every day."

"It is not cowardice to be afraid of death," Snape said sternly. His voice softened. "Nor is it cowardice to be afraid of me."

Harry frowned. "I'm _not_ afraid of you… I just… I'm terrified of affection in general. There's always a caveat to it. Ron uses it like a free pass, his affection means popularity by association, and withholds it when he doesn't get what he wants. Hermione uses it to make herself feel superior. They don't even realize they do it."

"And what do I use affection for?"

"I don't know," Harry breathed. "And that scares me even more. Because as far as I can tell, your only cause to show affection is to sell the lie. Except sometimes you're affectionate away from the watchers, like now, and I've not the slightest idea why. I keep waiting for you to demand something in return, and I can think of nothing you might want from me, except that we've nearly kissed a couple of times. I can't help but wonder if that isn't your caveat. I know it's not; I know this is all pretend, but I'm still afraid that that's what you want from me."

"Because I'm gay?" Snape asked, clearly insulted.

Harry shook his head. "Because I'd be humiliated," He answered honestly. "I want to trust you, I want to believe that you aren't that person anymore, but you have no idea how hard it is for me to trust anyone. The only time I've ever kissed or been kissed was my one date with Cho, and she was crying over Cedric when it happened. I felt humiliated, even though no one really saw us. I wasn't good enough for her. I'm not good enough for _anyone_. And if you kissed me, _especially_ where others would see, I'd be just as humiliated, because I'm 17 years old and I've never really been kissed. You would laugh. Or, worse, you would pity me. And even if you didn't, I would feel like you were, because I _feel_ pitiful."

"Whilst I wouldn't normally encourage this, I would suggest that you experiment," Snape told him gently. "Find someone you trust, someone you really believe won't laugh at you. Or, perhaps, someone you trust who you _do_ believe will laugh at you. Then share a kiss. Long, short, any kiss will do. And when things go back to normal, when you and whomever you choose are unchanged, then perhaps you can begin to heal, and even begin to trust."

"Would you do it?" Harry asked without thinking. He bit his lip but realized he didn't want to take the question back. There was no one else he felt he could trust with such a thing, no one besides the man who'd proven time and again that even when things did change, they changed for the better. "I know I'm gawky, and awkward, and not very attractive, but… would you?"

Snape frowned. "You are aware that I'm not female, correct?"

Harry chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I know that. The thing is, that doesn't really bother me. I'm not straight, and I'm not gay. I'd call myself bisexual, except that sex has never had anything to do with it. I don't… I don't react to stuff like the guys in my dorm, or at least I haven't before. Fear of intimacy is fear of all intimacy."

"If you're sure," Snape said hesitantly.

Harry made himself nod as he swallowed thickly. "I think I am," He murmured. "Just… promise me that nothing will change."

"I cannot make that promise," Snape answered honestly. "Things are constantly changing. A year ago, you would never have asked this of me. And a year ago, I would never have said yes. I cannot promise that another year will not see more change, nor even another month, another day, or another hour. What I can promise is that I will not stop being your friend, I will not stop pretending to date you to keep us both safe, and I will not stop doing everything I can to ensure you survive this war."

Harry nodded in acceptance. "That'll do."

Snape gave a firm nod, and began leaning towards him slowly. "Relax," He instructed gently.

Harry nodded, but the closer they got, the more his body tensed up. Snape's hand on his shoulder slid up to the side of his neck, and Harry shivered. But it wasn't a flinch, and that was something wholly unexpected. He realized he wasn't scared. He was tense, and his heart was beating a tattoo in his chest so hard and fast he thought he might faint, but he wasn't scared. He was filled with anticipation as he turned slightly on the couch to face the man, even leaning forward slightly. His first real kiss. Harry wondered how far it would go. Snape had said any kiss would do, so he would most likely keep it short and to the point, but _that_ didn't matter, because he was _finally_ going to be kissed properly. And, for whatever reason, Harry suddenly didn't think the Potions Master would laugh when he bombed the experiment.

Snape paused inches from him and hesitated. His black eyes darted side to side, looking into Harry's emeralds for something only he could see. "You're sure?"

Harry realized he was trembling uncontrollably. "Please."

At first, the kiss was light, hesitant. His lips brushed Harry's lightly, causing the younger wizard to draw a sharp breath. As he made to draw away, however, Harry followed the retreating mouth. Snape pressed forward again and drew Harry to him with the hand on his neck. Before Harry's eyes slipped shut, he saw the man's stormy brow furrow, and then their lips met, and Harry realized what passion was. His fluttering heart leapt into his throat, and his hands flexed convulsively in his lap as Snape consumed his mouth fervently. Harry pressed back and, following the Potions Master's lead, he joined the kiss. When Snape's lips parted against his and suckled his upper lip, and then his lower, Harry's lips parted and did the same. Snape breathed deeply through his nose, pulling Harry closer. Harry found his hands, trembling though they may be, were capable of moving on their own as they reached up and burrowed into the thick teaching robes Snape wore. A small sound escaped him when Snape's other hand touched his side. He felt the Potions Master shift on the couch, and their legs touched. Another sound, this time not quite as small, escaped the Gryffindor when a gently probing tongue swiped at his lips teasingly. He pressed nearer to the Potions Master, opening his mouth to him, drawing the man to him. He started leaning back, pulling his faux boyfriend down on top of him. Snape followed with only a moment's hesitation, drawing both their legs up onto the couch with a hand on Harry's thigh. Harry realized belatedly what he was doing, what he was forcing from the other man.

He pulled away, standing up and forcing back angry, self-loathing tears. He'd reacted like a teenager. Snape had offered to help him, and his stupid body had immediately tried to take advantage. He felt like an idiot. His body didn't seem to realize that it was just a brief experiment, and that the stimulus was going nowhere. He looked away, ashamed of himself, and his body's reaction. Snape was his friend, and yeah, he was a good kisser, but Harry felt he had no right for his body to react the way it had, that he had no right to not only ask for more, but to insist upon it by dragging the man down on top of him. He'd just explained about how his friends' affection always came with a caveat, and when he himself was tested he had wanted his own. It wasn't fair, and he felt like a jackass for pushing the man as far as he had.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't… I never meant to… I'm sorry."

Harry began tossing his school things into his bag haphazardly. He only stopped when a hand touched his shoulder. But he didn't flinch. That part was gone now.

"What you're feeling right now is completely natural, Mister Potter," Snape said gently, turning him around to face him. "Our bodies react even when we do not want them to."

Harry blushed, suddenly feeling beyond humiliated. And then Snape did something Harry didn't expect. He hugged him. He held Harry's head against his chest and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and merely held him. Harry listened with awe as the man's chest leapt against his ear. Snape's heart was pounding so hard and so fast that Harry could not only hear the uncontrollable thumping, but he could actually feel the man's chest move with each beat. He blushed again, realizing that it wasn't only his body that had reacted. It _was_ normal. No one could help how their body reacted to something. Just like the flinching. He looked up and smiled into Snape's clear black gaze, chuckling lightly at the raised brow.

"Thank you."

Snape drew back, his hand sliding down Harry's arm to grip his fingers. He held Harry's hand aloft as he dipped into a gentleman's bow.

"I live to serve, Mister Potter," He said, smirking.

Harry laughed again.

"Now, I think, perhaps, you should turn your attention to your Charms essay," Snape suggested. "Whilst I order us some much-needed sustenance." He eyed Harry carefully. "You may be able to fool your friends, but I've seen how little you've been eating."

Harry blushed darkly as he rubbed the hair at the back of his head. "It's hard to feel hungry when your every move is being devoured and analyzed by everyone around you."

Snape kissed the knuckles still held in his grasp and straightened. "Then perhaps I should spend my holiday ensuring you eat more than the sweets you keep up in your dorm."

"Is there anything you _don't_ know?" Harry asked seriously.

The Potions Master shrugged, winking. "You might be surprised. I shall return shortly." Harry knew his confusion showed and Snape smirked. "Any food ordered from staff rooms has to be submitted in writing via a journal. I keep mine in my bedroom."

Harry felt his blush heat up his cheeks again as the man disappeared into that very room. He didn't even know _why_ he was blushing. He'd been in there before, and there was nothing particularly mysterious about the room, but his brief stint was tainted by the reminder that, the only time he'd been in there, he'd had to undress the man. Magically, true, and for medical reasons only, but that did not stop his body reacting now to the memory. The Gryffindor forced himself to sit back down and pull his things out once more. He pretended not to notice that his hands were still trembling, and by the time Snape returned, they had blessedly stopped.


	9. Chapter 9

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Harry froze at the edge of the corridor with a groan of annoyance. Ginny was waiting for him, again. She was making it impossible for him to leave the library almost daily, and at this point he was glad she'd be gone in two days for the Holiday, giving him a much-needed break from her insanity. Madame Pince had already agreed that he could spend his holiday in the library, as long as he promised to help clean up. Apparently, she didn't like the House Elves, or Filch, cleaning in there, afraid they'd do something to her books.

Harry considered his options. He could go back to the library, but he honestly didn't want to. He was supposed to meet Ron and Hermione in just a few minutes, and he was damned tired of being scared off by his stalker. He peeked around the corner to see Ginny glowering at one of the shadowy alcoves down the corridor.

"I await Mister Potter." A familiar voice answered from the alcove.

Harry grinned as Ginny scoffed. Snape had been right. Since the experiment, Harry _had_ begun to heal, and to trust the people around him. Especially the Potions Master, who'd earned his trust tenfold. And the man just kept on earning that trust, every day, by finding some few minutes for them to spend together, whether in his rooms or in the corridors between classes.

"Ugh, that's disgusting. I don't know why you bother. It won't be long before he stops trying to make me jealous and dumps you, y'know. He's just pitying you, because you've got no other friends. Someday soon he'll realize we're perfect and stop play acting just to make you feel better."

Harry watched with amusement as Ginny suddenly began to cower slightly, backing away towards the opposite wall as Snape stepped from the shadows and towered over her. She'd apparently forgotten in her insanity just how scary Snape could be. The Potions Master glanced up and down the corridor, and saw no one, not even Harry. Harry continued to watch with interest as Ginny straightened against the wall with false bravado.

"You can't touch me," She squeaked. "Y-you're still a teacher."

Snape smirked. "There are a great many spells the ministry does not know and cannot detect, including several of my own invention."

Ginny swallowed visibly. "I-I know your spells. Harry taught them to me, and I know how to defend against them."

Snape stepped closer to the Sixth Year. "Miss Weasley, do you truly believe I did not continue inventing beyond my Sixth Year?" He asked querulously. "I can assure you, you have not seen the least of what I've created. There have been a great many spells, and a great many potions. Many of them have been banned by the Ministry."

Harry gaped. It hadn't ever occurred to _him_ that Snape would have continued inventing. It made sense, and he felt like an idiot for not realizing that sooner, but he was also incredibly impressed. The invention of spells and potions required a level of imagination that was very rare to find. He was suddenly honored to call Severus Snape his friend.

"You wouldn't dare," Ginny challenged in a shaky voice.

Snape snarled darkly. "Do not test me, Miss Weasley, and do not make yourself my enemy, or you _will_ regret it. Mister Potter is not your prize, he is not your trophy, and he is not _yours_ at all. You _will_ leave him alone, or I _will_ spend the next term and a half torturing you in unseen ways. Do I make myself clear?"

Ginny nodded shakily before bursting into tears and taking off down the corridor. Harry sighed with relief and made to turn the corner to thank the Potions Master. However, he did not get that chance. Before he had made it fully into the adjoining corridor, several hands descended on him. He tried to cry out but was cut off as a hand wrapped around his mouth. He'd been such an idiot. Snape had taught him a spell just the day before, to warn him about people sneaking up behind, but being so close to his refuge in the library he'd believed himself safe for just a few minutes. He bit down on the hand over his mouth and felt blood gush past his lips.

"Sna-!"

Something hard struck him over the back of the head, and he lost consciousness.

_-Break-_

"Mister Potter?" A soft female voice called distantly. "Mister _Potter_?"

Harry groaned. He tried to move, but something was keeping his hands pinned. His body twitched, and something jingled. He blinked open bleary green eyes to find himself in a torch-lit room he didn't recognize. The musty air tickled his sinuses and he raised his head weakly to try and find the source of the person calling his name. As he slowly came to, he realized that he was hanging from a wall, his hands cuffed on either side in thick iron shackles. He struggled against his bindings and again a chain jingled. He looked down and realized his foot was also cuffed, to a long chain that ended somewhere beyond the light. He looked again for the source of the voice and saw a small rectangle of light with iron bars across it. Beyond was a face. A very familiar face.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," He mumbled. His head was pounding, and his glasses were cracked, and the woman at the door was grinning. "There's no rest for the wicked, is there, Madame Pince?"

The library matron cackled charmingly. "Not at _all_, dear boy. However, I suggest you get what little rest you can. Soon now, my master and yours will begin trying to… extract that lovely darkness in your soul."

"A, I don't have a master, least of all the creep you serve, and B, you can't just _move_ a Horcrux. It's bound to me. No magic on this earth can change that, believe me, I've looked," Harry told her tiredly.

She giggled delightedly. "Oh! You think we wish to remove it? That's so quaint!" She cackled again. "No, dear child! My master has decided that there is much greater use for you! You see, for the Horcrux to bond to you, there had to be something cold and unfeeling in your heart for it to bond to. _You_ are going to be the Dark Lord's greatest weapon! Just as soon as we break you."

Harry sighed. His head _really_ hurt. "Fantastic," He muttered.

"What was that?" Pince called in a sing-song voice.

"I said 'give it your best shot'!" Harry shouted, jerking against his bindings. He was rewarded with a minute flinch from the hardened Death Eater. "Eleven years of withstanding my brute of an uncle and creep of a cousin, I can't _wait_ to see how you're going to top that. In fact, I recommend you start with Muggle means, because my magic will protect me from most of your weak little spells without even trying."

Pince gaped in genuine shock.

"You think I didn't notice?" Harry demanded. "It doesn't take a genius to see that you're practically a Squib. So, if you are planning to torture me magically, you should probably bring along a friend or two, because I'd be surprised if your spells did anything more than tickle."

The woman stormed away from the door and Harry chuckled weakly when he heard what sounded like a very heavy door somewhere down a corridor slam shut. He rolled his head and shoulders and jerked experimentally at the bindings on his wrists. He was bolted quite efficiently to the wall. There wasn't any give at all, and the tips of his fingers were already going numb. Fantastic. He dragged his legs up into a crunch, putting all his weight on the wrist shackles, and succeeded only in breaking the skin beneath them. He relaxed again and measured out the slack in his body as blood began to trickle down his forearms. He could bend his knees a little, and could almost sit if he extended his arms, but that was it.

He turned his attention next to the chain bound to his foot. He kicked out and the chain shifted and slithered. There was a _lot_ of slack in it, but he was pretty sure it connected to something. He jerked his foot, wrapping the chain around it, and drew the chain towards him. When his foot touched the wall, he did it again. In this way, he drew the chain up his calf, to his thigh, until finally it would pull no more. He wrapped his other leg around the taut chain and yanked with his whole body, causing more blood to trickle down his arms from his torn wrists. Something in the dark side of the room creaked. He did it again, and this time whatever it was gave a sharp crack. Another hard jerk, and the chain suddenly fell loose as something on the other side of the large room collapsed entirely with a loud crash. He flinched at the sound but continued pulling the chain with his feet and legs. It was dragging something heavy with it now. Harry continued to draw the chain toward him until the end finally came into the light. It was attached with a hook to what looked to be the side of a cage. Harry paled as something in the dark, something inhuman, giggled. Fantastic.

The darkness slithered across the floor as a Brollachan rose on its hind legs and opened its shadowy maw in a grimacing grin. Its' bloody teeth were long and sharp, and seemed to grow before Harry's eyes. He scowled at the creature and jerked the chain off his leg until it was loose enough to use. The Brollachan gave another child's giggle and drifted from side to side like a snake about to strike. Harry narrowed his eyes at it.

"Bring it."

The shadowy thing screeched child's laughter as it launched towards him.


	10. Chapter 10

"Potter."

Harry groaned as he lifted his weary head. He realized he must have drifted to sleep. The Brollachan lay off in the corner, snoring loudly. Aside from a few claw marks, their confrontation had gone well. The thing Voldemort seemed to have forgotten about this supposedly vicious creature was that it only fed on children. Faced with a grown man who fights back, it was easily overcome, and now merely shared Harry's cell. The Gryffindor smiled at the shifting, breathing shadow. The poor thing shouldn't be here, it needed to be in a forest.

"Why are you smiling?"

Harry gasped and jerked his head around. He hadn't imagined that voice that woke him. "Snape!" He crowed in relief.

The Potions Master smirked. "Your observation skills leave something to be desired."

Harry grinned. "Give me a break, I never expected _you'd_ be captured, or that they'd put you in a cell with me."

"I wasn't," Snape answered, drawing his wand.

Harry gaped. "So… you…" He drew a deep breath. "You risked your life coming after me. Again."

"It seems to be the only way to protect you," Snape said. He moved closer and lit the tip of his wand, working at the metal cuffs on Harry's wrists. Harry had discovered that the bindings had been conjured. There was no key. "Just don't knock me unconscious this time."

Harry chuckled as the bindings loosened and he dropped to the hard floor on his knees. "To be fair, you _were_ in the wrong on that particular adventure."

"Fair enough," The Potions Master agreed, picking him up from the floor. He slipped Harry's wand into his palm, and Harry felt a wash of magic to have the familiar branch in his hand.

"So, how did you find me?" Harry asked, his legs trembling. Snape tried to support him, but he pushed off and forced his legs to hold him.

Snape's hands hovered as Harry wavered before straightening. "I have suspected Irma was a Death Eater for some time. The disturbing thing is that Albus didn't, at least until today."

Harry tried to take a step, stumbled into Snape's arms, and righted himself, moving to the open door of his cell. "Don't tell me," He said, smirking over his shoulder. "You used me as bait."

"More or less," The Potions Master admitted. "I had thought our… arrangement, would keep me close enough to catch her before something happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me."

Harry smiled. "Did Severus Snape just apologize?"

"I may have, not that you could prove it," Snape answered, smirking. He reached out and drew Harry into his arms.

Harry went willingly into the embrace. "I should have listened to you," He murmured. "You shouldn't have had to come after me." He wrapped his arms around the older wizard's shoulders and held tightly. "But thank you, for doing so anyway."

They both pulled away, and then Snape was leading him down the corridor. Harry followed silently. He could hear fighting going on above them. The Order was here. Of course they were. Snape wasn't a Gryffindor, he wouldn't have gone charging in without backup. The fact that he was here at all, when it could easily mean his death… Harry shuddered as he recalled the man's words a month back. He grabbed Snape's arm before the man could start up the stairs. Snape turned to him with a deep frown.

"You… you remember what you said," Harry began gently. "On our first date in Hogsmeade?"

"Of course I do," Snape answered uncertainly.

"Not this time, okay?" Harry said sternly. The Potions Master opened his mouth to argue, but Harry grabbed his face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "I mean it, Snape, you _can't_ save me this time. This has to end, and that means I have to die. I don't know what'll happen after. He'll be weak, once I'm gone. Weak enough that somebody else can finish him, I'd bet. After that… after his reign of terror has ended, then you can worry about me. And, if I'm very, very lucky, you may even be able to bring me back. It's my turn, to give my life for somebody else, my turn to give my life… for you."

"Potter…"

Harry forced himself to smirk with false bravado. "Just promise me one thing, okay?"

Snape nodded, and they both pretended there weren't tears glistening in his black eyes.

"Promise you'll be there," Harry murmured. "I'm not afraid to die, but… don't make me die alone."

Snape surprised him by leaning forward and capturing his lips in a hard, insistent kiss. Harry melted into it. They leaned into each other. The kiss was chaste, a farewell which words could not convey. Harry felt tears slip from his eyes as the Potions Master drew him closer, as if afraid to let him go. Finally, he pulled away and moved past his professor, leading the way up the stairs. He was ready to face his destiny.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry looked around the train station bathed in white light. It looked like King's Cross, but there was some subtle difference he couldn't quite place. The last thing he remembered was throwing himself in front of a Killing Curse meant for Snape. Voldemort had taken the Potions Master's betrayal as a personal insult, and had momentarily forgotten about his much younger foe. Harry's last thought before the green light had struck him was that he'd finally done something right, he'd finally done what he should have done ages ago and given his life for someone he cared about.

"You've grown."

Harry turned sharply, knowing that voice. Behind him, beside a white bench, stood both of his parents. Tears sprung into his eyes as he raced towards them and threw his arms about their necks. He found no words as he choked on a sob. He was sorry he was dead, sorry he hadn't finished the job, but he was unbelievably happy to be able to hold his parents.

"Oh, Harry, I have missed you," Lily murmured, wrapping her arms around him.

James placed a hand on his shoulder. "I only wish you could stay."

Harry pulled back, frowning. "W-what do you mean? I'm dead, where else am I going to go?"

"Not quite, love," Lily said, touching his cheek gently. "You've still got a job to do."

"You mean…" Harry sighed, heartbroken. "You mean I still have to kill Him." He looked up at his parents. "But I want to stay with you. Let somebody else give him his end. I don't want that burden."

"It is yours to bear," James told him softly. "Though, that was not the business we meant. Severus needs you right now."

"What?" Harry asked, honestly confused.

"With you out of the way, there is no one to protect him," Lily said. "Tom will make sure he suffers."

Harry gasped sharply. "No! He can't! I- I have to go back! I have to stop him!"

Lily smiled. "You're such a good boy. Before you go, however, there is a message I would like you to pass along."

"Anything," Harry breathed.

"Tell Severus that I always loved him," Lily said. "Not the way he wanted, but he was always in my heart. And I _did_ forgive him. We… we were going to ask him to be godfather to your little sister, had I lived long enough to bring her into the world."

"Really?"

"Really," James answered. "I regret a lot about my youth, but none more than my appalling behavior towards him. I was always jealous. He was better at everything, and had Lily's confidence. But I was young and stupid. I tortured and brutalized what should have been one of my greatest allies." He kissed Harry's temple lightly. "I can't imagine anyone better to entrust my son's life and happiness to."

Lily kissed Harry's cheek. "I love you," She told him warmly, giving him a tight hug. "And we are so proud of you. You've had such a hard life, but you keep coming through every trial stronger than before. You're more precious and amazing than we could ever have hoped, and I am so glad Severus has you to care for, and you him."

"I love you, too," Harry murmured, returning the hug. "I miss you both, so much. I wish there were more time. I wish I didn't have to go back."

"I know," James said, kissing his head again and ruffling his hair. "But we'll be here, Harry. When the time comes, we'll be waiting for you. Until then, know that we are immensely proud of you, and that we're always watching."

Harry nodded, and closed his eyes as warm air suddenly rushed at him. Sounds of shouting and spells brought him around and he opened his eyes. He was on the musty floor of the manor-like base Voldemort had chosen. He lay trembling for a moment. Then, very near to him, he heard a familiar voice cry out. He looked with frightened eyes and saw Snape writhing on the floor under the Cruciatus, crying out whenever he could draw enough breath.

Fire flared in Harry's chest, a burning hatred like nothing he had ever felt. Harry picked himself off the floor, his hand curled around his wand so tightly that his fingers were white. His whole body was trembling with rage as he turned to face the Dark Lord, who had stopped his onslaught on Snape and was looking at Harry with a kind of horror.

Harry raised his wand and spoke the forbidden words to the unspeakable spell. Green light flared from the tip of his wand and sped like lightning towards the evil man who'd dared to harm the Potions Master. The spell struck the center of Voldemort's chest. Surprise colored the pale face and red eyes as the bastard collapsed. His body lay in the dust, his reign of terror ended in the space of a heartbeat. Harry turned from the corpse and collapsed beside the Potions Master, who was unconscious. The Gryffindor twisted around until he was kneeling with the man's head in his lap, off the dirty floor. Blood trickled from the side of Snape's mouth, and from his nose.

Around them, the fighting continued. No one had even noticed the battle, no one had witnessed the fall of the Dark Lord. But it didn't matter. Snape was safe, for now, and Harry carded his fingers through the glossy raven hair. Eventually, someone saw him, and he and Snape were whisked back to the school while the Death Eaters fell at the hands of the Order. It was done.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry's trust was shattered. Everyone noticed, and the pain on their faces when he pulled away from the friendliest touch hurt him in a way dying hadn't. But he couldn't help it. He had trusted Pince blindly, and it had ended with him dead and Snape tortured. The final death toll had been six, himself not included. Two Death Eaters and four Order members and Aurors had perished in the battle. Oddly, it was almost entirely the fault of location. One misfired spell, or perhaps more than one, had brought the upper floors crashing down on the heads of some of the combatants. Those not dead from the collapse were injured, though mostly non-fatal.

The upshot, if there was one aside from the death of the Dark Lord, was that there was an opening of employment waiting for Harry when he graduated. A substitute of sorts had been hired to finish out the year, but Dumbledore had promised Harry could take over as soon as the next term. He'd called it 'the least he could do' for Harry's sacrifice, and more than people touching him, Harry cringed violently when anyone brought up what had happened.

He didn't feel like a hero.

He'd remained at Snape's side for three days, against protests from Pomfrey, his friends, and the Headmaster. He'd wanted to be there when Snape finally woke up, and he had been. He'd been terrified he had come back too late, and the man's mind was broken. His eternal, damnable luck was with them, however, when Snape quickly recovered his faculties. For the remainder of the holiday, Harry spent as much time as possible in the dungeons, helping the Potions Master make and take potions and do thought exercises. By the time school resumed in January, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Harry wished his own life could go that well.

He didn't want to be remembered for bringing down Voldemort. Everyone, especially the papers, lauded him a hero of the Wizarding World, as if he'd done any of it for them, but he hadn't. He didn't want to be their hero, couldn't let himself believe he was, because he had done the unthinkable and cast a forbidden spell, not in defense of a world, but in defense of one man. Snape, thank the heavens, seemed to understand Harry's hesitancy, and Harry was never more grateful for their fake relationship.

Because of the sudden influx of hero worship, Snape had offered to continue the lie. Harry was glad. In the school alone, there were dozens of people, boy and girl, throwing themselves at him. The glares and snarls and vindictive punishments from his pretend lover kept the majority at bay.

Harry found himself in the dungeons more and more often. Snape's rooms had become a refuge of sorts. In large part because he was the only person who didn't seem to mind the flinching. On the last day before Harry was due to leave on the Hogwarts Express for the last time, Harry fled to the dungeons from the party in Gryffindor. The crowd of people had seemed suffocating, everyone merry and jolly and rubbing shoulders. It was more than he could handle, and Snape welcomed him.

"Are you alright, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, standing in the man's living room as Snape moved past him. "No, I'm _not_." He admitted. "I hate this. I hate being hounded, and I hate being fawned over, and I hate that anytime someone gets near me I flinch away like a goddamn coward."

Snape looked back from moving to his chair and changed course, drawing close to Harry but falling just short of reaching out to him. "Potter…"

"Please stop calling me that," Harry said, looking away from that damned onyx gaze. "I _hate_ when you call me that. We've been pretending to date for almost a full year, and we've been friends for perhaps as long, and every time you call me that I'm reminded that you used to hate me just because of who my father was."

"You know that that is no longer true," Snape pointed out. "Especially after the message you delivered from the dearly departed."

"I know, I know," Harry groaned. "It's just…" He hunted for a reason that excused the pain in his chest. He found it in their mutual lie. "People are asking questions. Everyone is starting to suspect that the relationship is a lie. Most of them still believe it's just propriety, because you're a professor and thus have to maintain a respectable distance, but the times people have caught us together, the times when we've let them catch us to sell the lie, make them think something is up. People in love are supposed to slip up now and again."

Snape reached out suddenly and drew Harry against him with an arm around his lower back. His other hand tilted Harry's head back with a gentle finger and thumb, and the Potions Master smirked. "Not, I assure you, if they have excellent self-control… Harry."

Harry pretended his heart wasn't racing and his breath wasn't coming up short as he swallowed. "Y-you called me Harry."

"You didn't flinch."

"I…" Harry didn't know what he was doing. He swallowed thickly and put tentative hands on the taller wizard's shoulders. "Y-you're right. And… there's something I've been meaning to ask, now that it's come to it. Now that I'm leaving as your student."

"There's something I've been intending to ask you as well," Snape told him softly.

"You go first," Harry uttered shakily. He wanted to put off his question for as long as possible, unsure about how it would be received.

"I have a home," Snape said, frowning down at him as his thumb swept across the edge of Harry's bottom lip. "It isn't much. It has needed a lot of work since I bought it, and I have rarely bothered to do more than maintain it. Even so, it is a good home, and I am quite proud of it. I would ask… that you come to stay there with me, on the summers."

"You're offering me your guest room?"

Snape smirked. "As it happens, I do not have one."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Oh. Then where-?"

"I thought perhaps," Snape said, clearly hesitating. "With me."

Harry drew back so suddenly he almost fell. "You're not serious."

"I am."

"B-but _why_?" Harry wheezed. "When? This… this was all pretend, wasn't it?"

Snape frowned, looking away. "I take it that is your answer."

"Well, what the hell did you expect?!" Harry demanded. "We're friends, not lovers."

Snape didn't answer, his gaze still turned away.

"I- I should go."

Harry turned and fled from the dungeons as fast as his feet could carry him. By the time he reached his dorm, to the loud protests of the people he'd pushed past in the crowded common room, he felt like his heart was going to jackhammer out of its' prison. It felt like a small, panicked bird had taken up residence in his chest.

He couldn't quite fathom what had just happened, nor how awfully he had reacted. He hadn't known _how_ to react, and his half-stalled brain had panicked in the moment. If he'd been less of a brash Gryffindor, he'd have stayed and talked out the myriad of questions buzzing through his mind. But even now, he didn't know what Snape had expected. He didn't know when Snape's feelings for him had changed so drastically.

It almost didn't really matter, though. What mattered was the caveat. How long had Snape been using their false relationship to encourage his very real affections? What if it had been from the start? What if all this time he'd just been using a lie to get what he wanted? What if he'd used that lie to manipulate Harry into kissing him? He hadn't minded when Harry had started to push for more, he'd barely hesitated. What if he'd used Harry's affection for their friendship to manipulate him, to get what he wanted from him?

And if that was the caveat… why had he come clean? Why ask him to move in with him, to share his home and his life? It wasn't that Harry didn't want to. If it had been a question about a guest room, he'd have taken the offer in a heartbeat. He didn't know if he was attracted to Snape, he didn't know how he felt. It wasn't like with Cho, or Ginny. He'd been a lovesick fool for both of them. But with Snape… it had just seemed natural, to want to spend the rest of their lives together. The relationship, false as it was, had seemed natural, after the first awkward week. He loved spending time with the Potions Master, loved being around him and coaxing his gentle side out.

But Snape had loved his mum. He'd even admitted he still carried a torch for her. It wasn't a hard leap to make that he was just projecting this love onto her son. And the thought of that hurt Harry in a place that had never felt pain before. It didn't matter, whatever he felt for the man. It didn't matter what he wanted, even if he wasn't sure he knew what he wanted. Because he would always be second best. How could he hope to be happy with the Potions Master, if Snape only saw him as Lily's son?

Harry threw himself on his side on the bed and curled up. He'd been such an idiot. He wished he'd gone first, wished he'd had the courage to ask for another kiss. It had been stupid, he'd just wanted the flinching to stop, and a kiss had worked last time, so he'd thought perhaps it might this time. Now he wished he'd asked first for different reasons. Now he wished he'd asked as a final act of kindness before their relationship, their friendship, ended.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Harry walked out of the school for the last time as a student. As always, the majority of the teachers were on the front steps, seeing off their students. Harry took a deep breath as he stepped into the bright sunlight. It felt like an era was passing. As he moved down the steps, he looked at his professors. Most of them were smiling, knowing he'd be back in the Fall as their colleague.

Bright emeralds flashed sharply off the onyx gaze of the one professor who wasn't smiling. Then Snape turned away. Invisible to most, Harry saw the man cringe with buried pain. His heart ached in his chest, to hold and be held at least one more time… and one more time after that. Clarity struck with the force of a blow, and Harry's feet slipped on the stone steps. Almost instinctively, Snape caught him under the arm and righted him before drawing away. A wall of ice descended between them as his arms crossed over his chest tightly and he turned away completely. Harry watched him go, and knew he couldn't let this end, couldn't abandon this one hope for happiness. He didn't care what his head was telling him, his heart was more important, and his heart wanted to spend the rest of their natural days together. In his heart, he didn't care that he would always come second to Lily. He'd spent the last seven years coming second to his father in everyone's eyes, including his own.

Harry began dodging in and out of the other students, pushing past one or two who moved intentionally to intercept. He thanked every god known to man when Dumbledore saw his efforts and stopped Snape at the doors to the school. A few steps below them, Harry reached out and touched the robed arm. Snape jerked his arm away, glowering at him, but Harry reached out again, and this time Snape didn't pull away. He was still scowling, but there was uncertainty in his brow. Harry finished his ascent, and forgetting the many rules, and crowd of students, he leaned up on his toes to place a light kiss on thin, frowning lips. Snape could not stop himself leaning into it, though from the tension bleeding from every pore, he did his best not to. When Harry pulled away, the Potions Master was still frowning, and Harry looked at him hopefully.

"You don't have to do this," Snape murmured quietly, looking away. "I can live without you."

Harry smiled bashfully, blushing. "Yeah, but… I can't."

Black eyes shot up to his, as if expecting Harry to be taunting him. Harry did everything he could to show his sincerity. Snape surprised him, and everyone watching, when he defenestrated the rules, which were still in effect until Harry stepped off the train, and drew Harry hard against him in a passionate, yet chaste kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around the bent neck, returning the kiss gladly. When they pulled apart, it was only far enough to breathe. Harry suddenly heard the whispers around them and realized he'd just kissed the man in front of nearly the entire school. He didn't care.

"We should talk." Snape said throatily.

Harry nodded, unable to lift his eyes from the tantalizing lips of his Potions professor. "Definitely."

Snape kissed him again, slowly, and it took longer for him to pull away this time. He laid his head against Harry's scarred brow and sighed. "If you're amenable, I will pick you up from the train station. We may talk at my home."

Harry hesitated, and Snape kissed him again.

"I am not asking you to move in," He reassured the Gryffindor. Harry was pretty sure the feeling in his chest was not one of relief. "It is merely a more private venue than any I can otherwise think of. Unless you had rather I come to call on you at Grimmauld?"

Harry shuddered. "No… I- I want to see your home. I want to have that talk. I'm just… unsure."

"I can live with that, and will hopefully put your fears, whatever they are, to rest." He placed a light kiss on Harry's lips. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Harry nodded, and the Potions Master moved as if to pull away. Harry, not quite ready to let go, pulled the man back into a needy, breathless kiss. After a long moment, he pulled back and drew away completely. He smiled shyly, at the somewhat stunned Potions Master and turned away, eyes ducked to avoid meeting the fully stunned gazes of his peers. He climbed into one of the coaches, and, to avoid the temptation to get out and return to Snape's arms, sat away from the open door, at the opposite window. It wasn't long before his friends joined him.

_-Break-_

One unforeseen, but welcome, result of them faking a relationship since very near the start of term was that, while shocked and speechless, the students didn't have many questions. As far as they knew, this was just a public display of previous happenstance. However, several weren't entirely fooled. For one thing, Snape had obviously been brooding before Harry kissed him, and for another, the man who had a penchant for all things orderly had broken a school rule and kissed him back unabashedly. By some odd luck, however, no one had overheard their conversation. Harry guessed the godawful whispering had gotten in the way.

He'd had to tell a lot of people on the train to buzz off. Some were those who'd noticed the hurt Harry had seen when Snape looked away from him. Most, however, wanted to poke fun at him, or worse, try one last time to hit on him by insulting the Potions Master and his kissing technique. Harry enjoyed pointing out the flaws in their arguments at first, but by the time they reached England he'd just cast a locking charm on the compartment door. Hermione was the only one amongst their friends who'd seen the hurt, and the way he'd gone running up to his dorm after his last visit to the dungeons, and she'd questioned him. In the end, he told her they'd had a fight the night before, but had refused to say anymore. He imagined he was going to have to answer a lot more questions, after Snape came to retrieve him at King's Cross.

The fortunate thing, if there were one, about the constant harassment of his peers was that he didn't have long enough between interruptions to think about what was to come, or how absolutely nervous he was about what would happen when it did. Even so, he was nearly trembling by the time he stepped off the train. He'd realized the most horrible thing. He was in love with Severus Snape. He didn't know when it had happened, had no idea when he'd begun to assume they would just go on pretending to date until they died. He'd never thought about it, perhaps willfully. Now that he had, now that he _knew_ he wanted to spend the rest of his life earning those tender smiles and gentle affections, the pain set in.

He would always be James and Lily's son. No matter what he did, he would always look like his father. No matter what he did, Snape would always have preferred his mother. He was sure now, while the knowledge was fresh, that it wouldn't matter, that he could live with that, but his heart wondered. How long could he really live with it? Months? Years? How much time in their lives together would be spent overcoming the shadows of his parents? What if, after a time, Snape grew bored? What if the affection he projected onto Harry, a match flame to Lily's torch, simply went out? Harry knew it would break him. He felt that in a place that had never known pain and suddenly knew nothing else.

But he wanted this. For the first time in his life, he'd found something, some_one_ who made him unbelievably happy. There were no expectations, at least. Snape wasn't going to wake up every morning wishing Harry had transformed into his mum. He may compare Harry to her, and he would substitute his love for her with him, but Harry thought he could live with that. Maybe it was selfish, to use the man's misguided feelings for his own happiness, but he didn't care. He wanted to be happy, and he thought he'd pretty well earned it.

As promised, Snape was waiting on the platform when Harry got off with his levitated trunk and owl cage. He was standing away from the crowds, against the back wall and half-hidden in shadow. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd been completely hidden, though, Harry knew he'd have seen him. Ever since their first kiss, he could admit, belatedly, that he'd had eyes for no one but him. He moved in the Potions Master's direction after a final farewell to his friends and a promise to visit.

Snape, who'd been leaning against the wall, pushed off, straightening, and Harry realized the man had foregone his robes. The Gryffindor couldn't stop his blush. The man looked gorgeous in his high-collared black shirt, vest, and form-fitting black trousers. He cleared his throat when Snape raised an eyebrow and smirked. He couldn't help where his mind had gone. A glance back, as the Potions Master moved from the shadows to pluck Hedwig's cage from the air showed that he wasn't the only one who noticed. Several students were staring, gobsmacked, at their shockingly attractive professor, and even as he looked more were turning to see what had caught their friends' attention. Harry glowered sourly, and jealously, at all of them before turning back to the Potions Master.

Snape held out his free hand, and Harry took it, grabbing onto the handle of his floating trunk. Even knowing what was coming, he still wobbled slightly when they landed. Snape smirked, moving his hand to Harry's shoulder to steady him.

"I'm impressed, Mister Potter."

Harry grinned. "Don't be," He demurred. "I've had to side-along apparate before."

Snape surprised the hell out of him by giving a dark, rolling chuckle that ricocheted around Harry's heart, making it flutter like a frightened bird. It was an intoxicating sound.

"I am aware," Snape said lightly. "However, I was referring to your trunk. Very, very few wizards are powerful enough to maintain any sort of spell through apparating, even side-along."

Harry blushed and gasped when he was drawn into the encompassing strength of Snape's arms. His trunk, thank Merlin, ruined the moment by bumping into them, as he'd still been holding the handle, and the Potions Master pulled away slightly, one arm still wrapped around Harry's waist. He gestured with his other hand. Had Harry been anyone else, he'd have missed the flicker of nervous fear in onyx eyes as the man turned to gesture grandly.

"This is my home," He said with false bravado. "Welcome to Spinner's End, Mister Potter."

Harry, finding he couldn't put it off any longer, looked around with cautious interest. It was, all told, not as bad as Snape had made it seem. The house wasn't falling apart, it was just… fading. The front garden was a turmoil of weeds and tall yellow grass in the setting sunlight, but it wouldn't take much at all to fix it up, and the exterior of the house only needed a new roof and a few coats of paint. Whoever painted it before had obviously forgotten the sealant, but that was easy enough to correct, and would make it easier to scrape off the existing layer to be sure there wasn't any rot in the wood beneath it. Harry was pretty sure that, given a few weeks, he could fix up the small two-story even to his horrid aunt's standards.

The Gryffindor could not stop his blush as he realized where his imagination had taken him. He wanted to live here, apparently. In fact, he _really_ wanted to live here. He wanted to fix it up and turn the house into a respectable home suitable for Potions Master Severus Snape, renowned across Europe not only for his efforts in the war, but also for his far-reaching and astonishing works in Potions. He wanted to give life to the dreary windows… and he wanted to live life beyond them. If the inside was anything like the exterior, he imagined it would take the entire summer, if not two, to really do a proper job.

Pain struck as Snape pulled away to lead him into the house, and Harry hesitated. He'd said 'no'. Twice, technically. How could he be making plans for a home he'd refused? Snape wasn't the sort to offer again, and he was disappointed to discover he didn't have the courage to voice his desire. Hell, he was still hesitant towards a _relationship_. The worries and doubts from the train began to gnaw at his gut as he finally moved to follow the Potions Master into the house.

The interior was dark, and even as Snape waved his wand, igniting the lights (all, thankfully, Muggle electricity), it was still dim. Harry looked around shamelessly, setting down his trunk by the couch, until he realized he was making an internal list of the things that needed to be done. Realization made him feel cold, and he hated himself for what he was about to do. Selfishly, it wasn't Snape's feelings that made his chest ache, but his own that made him loathe what was going to happen as soon as he worked up the courage to open his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his middle and huddled in on himself.

"Potter…"

Harry flinched when warm hands touched his shoulders and slid along his biceps. He looked up into the frowning, concerned eyes of the man he loved, and forced back the tears burning behind his eyes. He swallowed once, twice, then opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm not her," He managed to force out in a husky whisper.

Snape's brow furrowed in confusion that he didn't bother to hide. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not her," Harry repeated more firmly, straightening to his full, if slight, height. "I wish… I wish I could have this. I wish I could have you. I want you in my life, Snape. I want to wake up every day knowing I'll have a brand new chance to make you smile or laugh. But I can't do this. I can't be my mum, not even for you. I don't want you if you're always thinking of her, if looking at me only reminds you of what you couldn't have and what you settled for instead."

"Potter, I-."

"_Please_ don't call me that," Harry said angrily. "If you're going to break my heart, at least have the courtesy to call me by name. Because I'm not him, either."

Snape scowled. "Harry…" The Gryffindor flinched in preparation for the admittance, or the much worse lie. "I have not wanted Lily in a very long time."

"What?" Harry asked with a gasp. "But you said-."

Snape cut him off by stepping forward and tilting his head back with finger and thumb, his arm worming its' way around to nestle in the curve of Harry's back where it seemed to fit perfectly.

"I told you that I still carry a torch for her," He admitted softly. "But it has been many, many years since I've felt anything like desire for her. And, though she may hate me from the afterlife for saying so, it has been many _months_ since I have felt earnest love for her. I wanted you, Harry, before you saved my life near the start of the term. I wanted you, but I didn't know why. Albus suspected my predilection, which is why he gave his consent by sealing our lie. Some time since then, I began to realize that the feelings I have for Lily were changing, beginning to fade."

"Really?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Really," Snape answered with a gentle smirk. "It isn't fair to her memory, and some part of me will always love her for the role she played in my life, but it is no longer a romantic love. That love… that is yours, if you will have it."

"I want it," Harry admitted softly. He uncrossed his arms from his middle and slid them up to rest his fingers against a thundering heartbeat. "I want you. I don't know when it happened, but at some point I wasn't pretending anymore. In my head, I was. In my head, I couldn't imagine more than a lie to keep us together. But even knowing that, I wanted that lie to last the rest of our lives. I didn't want to be with anyone else. I still don't. It's just…"

"You're still unsure," Snape offered.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm sure I want this, and I'm sure I want you, but I'm scared my naivety will come between us. I have no idea what happens next, Snape."

"Well," The Potions Master said, stepping nearer. "You can start by calling _me_ by my given name."

Harry blushed. "I should have expected that," He said, chuckling as his fingers slid further up to clasp behind the bent neck. "And what happens after that, _Severus_?"

Snape didn't answer, instead leaning down to capture Harry's lips breathlessly. He drew their bodies flush together, and Harry felt their bodies respond almost simultaneously, Snape's heartbeat a competing drum against his own. He held the man to him, breathing in the intoxicating scent of arousal. He may not know much, but he knew that. That place, where pain had come to live, was empty of it now and filled instead with warmth and arousal. He wanted the Potions Master in the worst way.

He drew back, gasping for breath as his body trembled with desire. "Ask me again," He commanded softly.

Snape smirked, brushing his thumb across his cheek, and leant down to whisper against Harry's lips. "Stay with me."

"Yes," Harry gasped, pulling the man so hard against him that he stumbled.

Severus maintained his balance and held him up. Harry felt fire race through his veins as his fingers trembled. He slid them apart, back down to the hammering chest, as if to push the Potions Master away. Instead, his trembling fingers began working at the buttons on the man's shirt. He expected the Potions Master to stop him, to pull away at any moment, but Severus just continued to kiss him, pushing him back against the front door as Harry worked.

The Gryffindor gasped for breath when thin lips trailed from his lips, along his jaw, to the skin of his throat. There, they began to suckle his pulse hungrily as he managed to unbutton everything above the accursed vest he'd forgotten about. He began working at the toggles and buttons at the same time, switching between them until he could finally pull the shirt free of the black trousers and push both off slim shoulders. Severus' lips returned to his as the Potions Master made much quicker work in divesting Harry of his loose tee, pulling it over his head before returning to devouring his mouth.

Harry couldn't seem to stop touching the warm flesh pressed against him. The scarred hide of the Potions Master held a thousand secrets, and Harry mapped the wiry muscles on the taller wizard's slight frame. Finally, his fingers trailed around to the man's front, his hands pressing and exploring the firm stomach. He reached for the clasp of black trousers trepidatiously. This time, Snape did stop him, his hands abandoning their own exploration of Harry's wider build to curl loosely around his fingers.

"Harry," The man breathed, pulling away slightly. "I- I don't…" He kissed away the frown on Harry's lips. "Not yet."

"But, Severus, I thought…" Harry frowned again, frustrated. "If not now, then… I thought you wanted me. You said you wanted me for a while."

"I do, and I have," Severus reassured him, kissing him again as their chests heaved together. "But you haven't. Our first time together is not going to be some rushed coupling borne of relief and gratitude."

Harry looked away with a scowl. He knew he was pouting, but he couldn't help it. His entire life, he'd taken other people's lead in how to interact, socially and personally. Now he'd finally worked up the courage to act for himself, and he was being told 'no'. A thought danced across his periphery and he snatched at it before it could escape. It was an embarrassing memory of the one time he'd worked up the courage to ask his friends about… coupling. They'd all laughed, but they'd given him some pointers and he considered them now as he hadn't then. He didn't _really_ want to do much more than they already had, in spite of his own raging hormones, but he wanted to give the man something for his patience. He raised wondering eyes to the frowning onyx gaze above him.

"W-what about something… less involved?" He asked, tentatively tracing a finger down the xylophone of ribs.

"Harry…"

"Not that," Harry agreed. "Because… As much as I hate to say it, and as much as I really want you, I _am_ untouched, and it makes no sense for me to start at the peak and work my way down. I don't even know what's involved. I just… I really want you, and I have no idea what to do with that. It's taken me months to get to the same place as you, and all that time, you… you never said a word, you just suffered in silence."

"You are…" Snape breathed, his brow furrowing as his thumb traced Harry's lips. "Incorrigible."

Harry couldn't help a small chuckle.

"However, as I told you many months back, we're going to take this slowly," Snape sighed, drawing away from him, once again tilting his head back as he braced a hand on the door above Harry's head. "Your teenage hormones may forget so easily, but today was only the third time we have even kissed." Harry felt a scowl begin to form in his brow as doubt surfaced. "I want you, Harry, more than words can express, and I promise you that we will attend to our desires soon, but for now I merely wish to hold you, and to kiss you, and to reassure myself that you're not going to go running for the door the second you have a chance. Can that not be enough, for now?"

Harry smiled shyly, returning his arms their place around the stiff neck. "It can," He answered softly. "Though how you expect me to share your bed without things advancing quickly is beyond me."

Snape smirked. "I have _excellent _self-control, Mister Potter."

"Dastardly thing," Harry breathed, leaning up on his toes.

"Contemptible," Severus agreed solemnly.

Harry pulled the man towards him again and went about the delicate task of consuming the mouth above his as his fingers began remapping the muscles and scars along thin shoulders.


End file.
